


Composition C-4

by WildBlueSonderling



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, College, Color Code, Color Crack, Explicit Language, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, High School, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Slice of Life, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, color clash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2020-10-19 21:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20664338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildBlueSonderling/pseuds/WildBlueSonderling
Summary: Compilation of oneshots and short stories featuring color code, clash, and crack pairings. Very sporadic updates. Requests accepted!





	1. Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Features **Brickercup** in a semi-apocalyptic/disaster setting. One-shot, complete.

It's the end of the world for Townsville.

The once shining metropolis has been reduced to a skeletal wasteland. Variegated skyscrapers lean against one another at precarious angles like a line of steel dominoes waiting to go crashing down. Every so often a glass shard breaks free and shatters on the street below, the asphalt now a dangerous maze pockmarked with craters and trenches. The clouds above dispense toxic rain that coats everything with a thick layer of grime. Silence prevails.

Buttercup experiences a pang of sadness each time she comes within the city limits. Townsville is the only home she's ever known, then _they _showed up and wrecked everything in their quest to destroy the Powerpuff Girls. The Mayor declared a state of emergency when it became clear they couldn't be reasoned with, and everybody left. She wouldn't be surprised if half the population never returns after losing in faith in her. People deserve to live in peace. They deserve a real hero.

She's in stealth mode by wearing all black and flying slow enough not to leave behind her green energy signature. She constantly scans the skyline, using demolished buildings for cover on her way to the intact shopping mall. It might not have what she needs but it's worth a shot, and there are tons of other useful things to salvage. Funny… once upon a time she hated shopping with her sisters because fashion was frivolous and consumerism was bad and yadda-yadda, but she's worn the same tattered outfit for several months now and it's practically falling apart in the wind.

The mall comes into view, its domed glass ceiling peppered with holes caused by falling debris. Buttercup circles the area a few times instead of making a beeline for it. There's always a chance one of _them _might be in there… but then again, they could get nice new things elsewhere. Clothes, money, tech, whatever they want; not like anyone can stop them. They're more powerful but definitely not smarter or the Puffs would've died the first day. Run and hide, run and hide… If only this underground resistance thing were easier and the Professor could whip up a concoction with materials he already had.

She darts from her hiding spot to a balcony and stills, looking every direction except upward which is where the attack comes from. Someone slams into her with incredible force, blasting her straight through the concrete back down to street level. She blinks to clear her vision and glimpses wild red hair, driving a reactionary fist into her attacker's cheek. Much to her surprise it elicits a masculine grunt of pain. She scrambles to her feet and catches his mitts before they connect with her again. It's been quite a while yet she instantly identifies him. "Brick, hey, chill out! It's me, Buttercup!"

He falters as recognition dawns. Maroon eyes scan her from toe to head, lingering on her black bob cut. "Buttercup…" he breathes, visibly relaxing. "I could've sworn you were Brute. Sorry."

She knows they're practically twins aside from hairstyle. "S'okay. I thought you were Berserk till I heard your voice." Now that he's no longer trying to pummel her into dust the differences are as obvious as night and day. Brick is well over six feet tall with a sturdy build. His arms are toned and his heaving chest highlights square pectorals beneath his T-shirt, which has a diagonal slash revealing defined abs. He's grown pretty handsome, Buttercup thinks; high cheekbones, full lips, sharp jawline, and rather sultry eyes for a guy. Or maybe 'smoldering' is the correct adjective given their color. In addition to his torn clothing he's also covered in dirt and missing his hat. "So you ran into Brute?"

"_She_ ran into _me_. Knocked me through a parking garage." He pushes a hand through his long locks to dislodge bits of rubble.

Buttercup folds her arms. "What're you doing here, Brick? You guys fucked off a long time ago." The Rowdyruff Boys hadn't gone far, just next door to Citiesville where they could menace people to their heart's content.

"I wouldn't have had to come back if you three did your damn job and took out those crazy bitches when they first showed up. Now they're edging into our territory and I'm gonna put a stop to it."

"Yeah, okay. My evil doppelganger clearly kicked your ass." His teeth clench. "They're a lot tougher than they look, huh? Kinda seems like you ran away from Brute."

"I didn't _run_ _away_, I made a tactical retreat. There's a difference."

Buttercup snickers; she saw the scared, desperate expression on his face. But in truth the Powerpunk Girls scare her, too. They're the strongest foes her sisters have ever faced and they know the Powerpuffs haven't left the vicinity, so they fly overhead waiting for their quarry to show. Just one Punk is too much for all three Puffs to handle together, but perhaps with the Rowdyruffs on their side… "We should join forces," she states.

Brick gives her a withering look. "What makes you think I'd _ever _agree to that?"

"How 'bout the fact that if the Punks kill us before we destroy them they'll likely come after you guys next? They'll turn Citiesville into _this_." She gestures to their surroundings as a whole.

He softens. It's no great destination but Citiesville is his home, and for once it was in vastly better condition than Townsville. Besides, Brick isn't sure if he can actually take out a Powerpunk Girl in a one-on-one fight. If two or all of them ganged up on him he might not live long enough to tell his brothers to flee. "I'll think about it," he says. "What're you doing here if it's so dangerous?"

"Blossom needs medicine. She got fucked up the other day when Brat caught her scrounging around a science lab." She examines the sky above, frowning. "There's a small pharmacy in this mall. I wanted to be in and out in half an hour, before it rains."

"Tch, what's so bad about a little rain? Might clean this shithole up."

Buttercup sighs at his ignorance. "Your old pal Mojo Jojo built a weather machine for the Punks when they first got here. He filled it with Antidote X and now it's part of the local water cycle."

"Shit, really? So if it rains on us…?"

"Say goodbye to your powers for twelve hours." She walks through the mall's dilapidated front entrance.

"Hey, hang on a sec…" Brick follows. "If I help you get this medicine we can leave sooner, right?" She clearly knows how to survive here whereas he'd flown blindly into hostile territory to escape Brute, not his brightest move. If he sticks with Buttercup they can put up a united front against a Powerpunk in case they're spotted. "And I need a new hat. Lost mine during the fight."

She only shrugs and allows him to trail her to the pharmacy on the second floor. The roof is collapsed and most of the shelves toppled over. "Well, fuck. Won't find anything in this mess."

"What're you looking for?" Brick asks.

"Eye drops." He grabs a handful of bottles for alleviating dry, red, itchy eyes that Buttercup dumps into her backpack. She also finds glaucoma medication and takes it just in case.

"Mission accomplished?"

"Not quite. Need some clothes." She ventures into the closest store with garments still on the racks. "You might as well replace those rags while we're here." Brick heads to the men's department as Buttercup finds lingerie; turns out undergarments aren't great at enduring the apocalypse. She strips naked to don a black bandeau and cotton boyshorts, stuffing several packages of panties into her bag as well. There's a nice leather jacket in the neighboring section but she needs something to wear beneath it first. Long-sleeved thermal? Ideal. Cargo pants? Perfect. Her shoes are trashed so she trades them for combat boots with good tread. _Now _it's mission accomplished.

"Brick," she says loudly, and he comes around the corner with two caps in hand. "I'm done here. If you wanna get home safely we should go now."

"Okay, but which of these looks better?"

She taps her foot while he tries them both on. "The gray one." He tosses the other hat aside. "Didn't know you were so vain. Need anything from the makeup counter before we leave?"

"Hey, fuck off. Even though this mall is half trashed it's still nicer than anything in Citiesville. I'm gonna bring my brothers back here."

"Good luck with that. If you fly together the Punks will definitely sense your energy."

His expression dims. "They can do that?"

"Uh huh, that's why we take turns coming into the metro. If you wanna get out of Townsville without attracting one of them you need to fly carefully." Buttercup goes to the top of the dome, giving the vicinity another X-ray sweep. "We're clear. Come on."

"Look at you, all stealthy and cautious." Brick cackles a little. "It must suck having to sneak around your own home."

Yeah, it did suck, but getting caught by Berserk, Brat, or Brute would suck a lot more. Thankfully the Punks didn't have the same harmonious sibling relationship as the Puffs. There had been a few instances where Buttercup or her sisters were completely at their mercy but they were too busy arguing with each other to strike the final blow, so they lived to fight another day.

Buttercup never takes the same route twice. Sometimes she flies all the way around the city to enter it from different directions so as not to clue the Punks in to the new location of the lab. Today she's going east, then south toward the suburbs. Brick shadows her wordlessly, attentive and efficient as she expects the Rowdyruff leader to be, but then he lingers in the open while she ducks beneath the awning of a convenience store and during that time the first raindrop falls, an instantaneous deluge rather than a gradual shower. Within seconds he's drenched in Antidote X.

"Brick, you moron! Get over here!" He blinks, drowsy, and takes a step forward only to trip over a pothole and nearly faceplant the ground. Buttercup muffles a scream, cursing the fact that she now has to wait out the storm with his useless ass. She should just ditch him and get herself to safety… but there's no telling what the Punks will do when they find him. She removes a poncho from her backpack before dragging Brick out of the road, and not a moment too soon. A dark green streak cuts through the air high above. Of the three Powerpunk Girls Brute is the one she wants to avoid most because she's fucking psychotic.

Any minute now Brick will start convulsing due to the rapid decline of his metabolism. Chemical X speeds it up, Antidote X slows it down. Slow metabolism means his body doesn't produce enough heat to regulate his temperature, not to mention he lost his powers. Buttercup told him that would happen, didn't she? "You're an idiot," she speaks quietly, scathingly. "You shouldn't have been here in the first place. You don't belong here, you _never _belonged here. It's _my _city to save. Why didn't you just go home after Brute beat you down? Arrogant bastard."

His eyelids flutter as he murmurs, "I heard that."

"Good. Don't freak out about this." She rips his clothes off.

"The fuck're you doing?!"

"Preventing you from getting hypothermia," she explains.

"But I'm naked!" He blushes profusely but Buttercup doesn't really give a shit about modesty right now. She hauls him upright, placing his arm around her shoulders.

"Can you walk?"

"Where the fuck're we gonna go?" he demands.

"My friend Kim used to live here. This is her family's shop. There's an apartment upstairs." Brick keeps his mouth shut and lets Buttercup heft him up the narrow staircase. There is indeed a small living space, eerily vacant. The décor is distinctly Asian. He drops onto the sofa and places a pillow over his hips, closing his eyes to vertigo. He can feel his body fighting the Antidote, trying to purge it from his system, sweating rather than shivering. Guess that's a benefit of being hot-blooded. His head lolls toward the room Buttercup rummages through; she comes back with a thick wool blanket. "Wrap yourself up in this."

"Find me clothes or something. I'm not leaving this place buck-ass."

"We can go back to the mall when the rain stops." She peers between the window slats at the torrent. "Unless you feel like wearing women's underwear right now."

He considers it for a split second. "Fuck that. I just don't want you to see anything."

"Oh yeah, I'm _so_ interested in checking you out while we're hiding from supervillains who want to kill me." She scoffs. "I have way more important things to worry about than your dick."

"Like what?"

"Literally everything!"

Brick makes a frustrated noise. "That's not what I meant. Why'd you stick around here instead of getting the hell out like everyone else?"

Buttercup takes a deep breath to calm herself. "Because the Punks will just follow us wherever we go. If we stay in Townsville the damage remains localized."

"What was Blossom doing at a science lab?" he asks next.

"The Professor is trying to engineer a compound that'll nullify the Punks' powers, like how Ax affects us. The thing is, they're not made with Chemical X. We got a blood sample from Brat early on and they're infused with something we call Chemical Y, so the Professor has to make Antidote Y."

"Wow, real creative."

"At least we're trying to do something about them instead of acting like they're someone else's problem," she returns.

He sits upright to glare at her. "Those bitches don't care about _us_, they want _you_. And since you said we never belonged in Townsville, why should we lift a finger to help you get rid of them?"

"Because we're not strong enough!" Buttercup shouts, launching into a tirade. "We're not strong enough to beat them, okay?! That's why we need the Antidote Y to weaken them, 'cause our attacks are fucking useless! And if you're not strong enough to take them out either it makes sense to work together! If it's six against three we'll stand a chance. I know we will because…" Her volume lowers to almost nothing. "Because the Rowdyruff Boys are stronger than the Powerpuff Girls. You've _always _been stronger than us. I thought the enemy of our enemy could be our friend for once but no, you have to be exactly what Mojo made you to be, a self-absorbed _asshole_. My life would be so much easier if I could live like you but I can't 'cause I'm a goddamn Powerpuff Girl and I was created to protect Townsville. But I failed and now there's _nothing left!_"

She sits on the carpet with her back to Brick while trying to blink away tears. Buttercup finally said it aloud: she failed to save the city from an enemy for the first time ever. The destruction, the barrenness, the isolation is her fault because she wasn't strong enough to protect her home, and it isn't anyone else's responsibility to fix what's been broken. It was wrong of her to assume the Rowdyruffs would go out of their way to join a battle that has nothing to do with them. But deep down she knows that even armed with Antidote Y it'll still be a tough fight without additional support; one of her sisters might be killed. Buttercup cannot stand to lose Blossom or Bubbles, not after everything else has been taken away. Her family is all she has left. She's been defending them at any cost to herself but she doesn't have much more to give.

Brick stares at her for a long while, wishing his X-ray vision were intact so he can see what's going on in her head. Buttercup is the Toughest Fighter, the unshakable one, but it certainly seems she's reached her limit. She must be really desperate to want to fight with him despite being attacked on her home turf. She saw him and thought "here's hope" instead of "here's an enemy". It tugs at his heartstrings a little bit. "If I agree to rally my brothers and help you destroy the Powerpunk Girls," he speaks in a neutral tone, "there are some things I want in return."

Buttercup twists around to face him, the gloom shielding her puffy red eyes. "Like what?"

"Like… we get to live in Townsville again."

She's astounded. "You want to to live _here?_ Like in a house?"

"A penthouse, a hotel suite, villa, mansion, loft, bungalow, whatever." Brick shrugs. "Anything's better than the two-room place we have now. Butch sleeps on the damn couch."

"Um, okay, that's not a big deal since there's plenty of real estate available. What else?"

"I want Professor Utonium to get rid of any and all traces of Antidote X, 'cause this…" he indicates himself, "…is unacceptable. Never in a million years did I imagine being stuck powerless in an abandoned home with a fucking Powerpuff Girl."

"A fucking Powerpuff Girl who saved your life," Buttercup corrects. "And that's easy. We want it gone, too. Gotta bust up the weather machine, though." She would've done it long ago if the Punks didn't take turns guarding it. "Next?"

He grins. "When everything's put back together and businesses reopen, I wanna go a shopping spree without having to pay for anything."

"That's called stealing, Brick."

"Fine, then a city-wide discount for us."

She rolls her eyes. "That's assuming we succeed in taking Townsville back and assuming we can fix everything so people will wanna live here again."

"Tch. Didn't you Girls help Mojo build his observatory when you were, like, six?" She gives him a snide look. "That's all I can think of for now… no wait, I want a statue dedicated to us as the saviors of Townsville, a really big one."

"Y'know, your offer to fight with us is a lot less selfless when you demand _multiple _rewards." Brick is completely unbothered by the morality of their agreement. "But okay, I'll make sure you get everything you want."

"Promise?" He withdraws a hand from the blanket.

"I, Buttercup Utonium, promise to deliver the agreed-upon material goods to the Rowdyruff Boys upon the successful reclamation of Townsville from the Powerpunk Girls." She meets his grip, immediately grimacing. "Eww, you're sweaty."

"Well I'm not feeling too hot right now," he retorts.

Her brow furrows as she kneels on the sofa to press a palm to his forehead. "No, you _are _really hot. That's weird. Ax is supposed to make you cold."

"I'm enveloped in a _wool _blanket. It's hot as balls in here."

"Which neither of us want me to see, so just uncover your upper body." Brick does so in a flurry of movement, sighing at the rush of cool air on his skin. "I'm going to get drinks and snacks so sit tight."

The stillness of the apartment makes him uncomfortable as soon as she leaves; he's not used to being alone. Brick stands, swaying as another wave of vertigo hits, and pulls open the blinds. He scowls at how obfuscated everything is, not just because night has fallen and there aren't any street lights. Black, gray, brown… Townsville is a shadow of its former self. The only point of color around for miles is Buttercup's bright green eyes. Does she know her irises glow in the dark? He gets woozy again and sits back down, cringing in response to a temperature spike. It feels like his own body is trying to liquefy his organs or something. Getting rained on by Antidote X is officially the worst thing he's ever experienced in life, worse than exploding from Powerpuff cooties as a kid. He would _much _rather be kissed by Buttercup than lose his powers.

"The streets are flooded," she announces upon her return, "and a bunch of the food is moldy. But I think these chips are okay, and here's jerky." Several bags fall onto Brick's lap. "There's lots of water and juice. Pick your poison."

He raises a hand to prevent her from dropping those on him as well. "Watch the junk."

"Sorry, forgot how fragile men can be." She wears a smug smile as his eyes widen at the jab, but then he smirks.

"I just thought of something else I want in exchange for saving Townsville. You can give it to me personally."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you when the time comes. Just remember you already shook on it so you can't refuse."

Her lips turn down. If Brick thinks he can screw around after the Punks are gone he's got another think coming. Buttercup finally removes her jacket and boots before checking out the rest of Kim's old home. They left behind large pieces of furniture like chairs and dressers as well as two made-up beds. She shakes out the musty blankets and piles them in the living room opposite the sofa, then finds more throw pillows in a large trunk. Since it's dark and she reasons Brick can't see her, she takes off her shirt and pants before diving into her downy nest. "Mmm, comfy…"

He tries to sound casual. "Hey Buttercup, this couch is too short for me to sleep on."

"If you think I'm gonna share my awesome bed with you, you're delusional. And suicidal."

"C'mon, I'm the one in recovery. I deserve to be comfortable." He tries walking to where she lies but the room is pitch black. He bangs a knee on the coffee table, sucking his teeth.

Buttercup stifles a laugh. "Brick, if you keep making dumb decisions and hurting yourself I _will_ tie you up for your own safety. I have rope in my bag."

"Kinky," he returns, voice pitching higher in pain. "Guess I'll just stay here and wait for my legs to cramp up…"

She snorts. "You suck at this."

"At what?"

"Roughing it."

That's prime phrasing for innuendo but he can't think of anything clever with a bruise forming on his leg and his head spinning. "Yeah, well… go to sleep. Your glowing eyes are freaky."

"It's _your _fault we're not in our own beds right now." She ponders something. "What'd you even stop to look at out there?"

"Graffiti," Brick answers. "Wanna know what it said?" She nods before realizing he can't see it, but he caught the slight movement. "It said 'Townsville hearts PPGs'. Someone probably wrote it on their way out."

If that wasn't the best way to cut right to her heart. There must be people waiting for the Girls to do their job so they could return home as well. "If we actually defeat the Punks together they'll probably write 'Townsville hearts RRBs' too."

He mulls it over. "I guess I can fight for that."

Buttercup is a light sleeper, has to be in order to catch any indication of approaching danger, so she wakes up as soon as she hears the change in Brick's breathing. She moves over to him, placing a hand on his cheek; he's ice cold and his teeth are chattering. "Hey, wake up." She shakes him gently. "Get in bed with me. I'll keep you warm."

He groans. "I can't feel my fingers and I can't see anything. Oh god, are my eyes frozen?"

"It's just the middle of the night, Brick. Come on." She pushes the coffee table aside before leading him three feet to her nest of blankets, wrapping her arms around his frigid back while he snuggles against her chest. After a few minutes his jaw stops trembling and steadier breaths ghost her cleavage. Soon he stops shaking altogether. "Feeling better?"

The answer is delayed because Brick is amazed that Buttercup deigned to let him get this close to her. They haven't seen each other since they were twelve when the Powerpuffs came to Citiesville to stop a wannabe crime syndicate and the Rowdyruffs helped since they knew about all the shady goings-on. It's been at least seven or eight years since then. He knows the Girls graduated high school because he saw a plane towing a congratulatory banner and heard the ensuing party.

Six months ago the whole city fell silent and Brick started keeping an eye on Townsville to see what was up. He spied unfamiliar pink, blue, and green streaks flying through the air. He watched the buildings sustain more damage each day, noticed the crumbling infrastructure. And he saw dark clouds become a permanent fixture in the sky, but he had no idea they were formed from Antidote X vapor. He learned the Powerpunk Girls were responsible for Townsville's decay. He had a conversation with their redheaded leader last month, telling her to stay the fuck out of Citiesville _or else_. She didn't take his threat seriously. They started stealing from businesses on the edge of town, then they actually killed someone who dared to stand up to them. Brick hovered above the bridge linking the two cities. He only turned his back for a second but that was enough time for Brute to strike. After exchanging a few blows it became apparent he was no match for her, so he bolted in a random direction to gather his bearings. When he saw Buttercup on the balcony he couldn't believe Brute got ahead of him so quickly, deciding to take advantage of her being distracted. Their encounter was a simple case of mistaken identity.

Brick knows he should've allied with the Powerpuffs before an innocent civilian got killed. The Rowdyruff Boys are not good people by any means, but they don't commit senseless crimes and they certainly don't commit murder. They should've done something about the Powerpunk problem instead of assuming the Powerpuffs would take care of it themselves; that store owner died because of Brick's apathy. He's supposed to be the leader, the one who takes charge and takes action. He's also too prideful to outright ask anyone for assistance, but Buttercup doesn't wait to be told what to do. She reads a situation and reacts accordingly, and he likes that about her. She's been helping him without any prompting since he barged into her even though he definitely doesn't deserve it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Brick eventually responds. As if he has anything to complain about. He's comfortable, she's soft and warm, and they're aggressively cuddling to stave off hypothermia. "What time is it?"

"It hasn't been twelve hours yet if that's what you hoped."

He smirks. "Well, you'll be able to tell the moment my powers come back. I run really hot."

"I'm sure."

"Seriously. I give new meaning to the term 'fire crotch'."

An amused puff of air ruffles his bangs. "If I end up with your dick branded on my thigh, I will do something to you that even Chemical X can't fix."

"Maybe it should be between them just in case." Buttercup flicks the tip of his nose. "Hey!"

"Stop flirting with me and go to sleep." He tightens his hold on her waist, mumbling petulantly, but the soothing manner in which she rubs his back easily lulls him to slumber again. Buttercup closes her eyes to resume her partial rest.

She's never slept with a guy before. She thought it'd be inconvenient but Brick is a nice bed mate. He doesn't snore, he grows hotter throughout the night, and breathing at the same rate as him is reassuring. She also experiences a feeling she can't name at the fact that Brick is completely trusting of her despite being so vulnerable right now, like he knows she'll protect him without hesitation. And she will because she needs him. Townsville needs him.

She'll be stronger with him at her side.

* * *

"Hey, you see that down there?"

"Yeah, let's check it out!"

Buttercup instantly wakes from her deeper-than-usual slumber as the voices of two Punks reach her ears. She rolls on top of Brick, rousing him with the unexpected movement. "Wha's goin' on?" he mumbles. She places a hand over his mouth, pupils dilated as she sees Brat and Berserk descend to the street. Brick tries speaking again and she shoots him a look, that millisecond of eye contact conveying fear that she won't be able to protect him if he gives away their position, so please shut up. She's prepared to shield him with her own body, muscles coiled tighter than a compressed spring. He still isn't aware of the danger until he also hears voices.

"These clothes are all torn up. Maybe someone had a sexy party around here," Brat snickers.

"Don't be stupid," Berserk returns, "they're from that guy Brute was playing with yesterday. She said he got away."

"Maybe he got caught in the rain and fell through some glass?"

"I don't see any blood, though…" Buttercup tenses even more as she watches Berserk examine their surroundings. Thank god the Punks don't have X-ray vision, just laser sight. "If he did get rained on he's probably holed up somewhere. Let's check the outskirts."

They take off. Buttercup exhales slowly and uncovers Brick's mouth. Much to her surprise he doesn't say anything right away, but that's probably because he's staring at her chest. "Hey, eyes up here."

Red irises snap to her face. "They're gone?" Buttercup nods. "Sweet. Let's get the hell out of here."

She gets dressed, noting Brick's disappointed expression. He wears it for reasons other than she assumes. "Don't worry, we'll swing by the mall first. You can fly, right? Your powers are back?"

He snaps his fingers to generate a small ball of flame. "Back and better than ever, baby."

"Don't call me that. And put that out before you burn down the place."

He does so with a scoff. "Are you always this bossy in the morning? Do you need more cuddles?"

Buttercup rolls her eyes while shrugging on her backpack, pointedly not looking in his direction. Maybe Brick forgot he was naked now that he can't feel the cold but it's obvious in broad daylight. She gestures for him to follow, pausing in the store to survey the sky. Brick grabs his hat off the floor, which somehow managed not to get washed away with last night's flood, and dries it before placing it on his head. "Come on, and stay with me this time." She darts to an overhang up the street.

He smirks while pressing against her side. "Is this close enough?"

"Stop messing around and just pay attention!"

He chuckles; it's fun teasing her. And he's pretty positive she was comfortable sleeping with him last night, relaxing fully for at least a few hours. Maybe she dreamed about how things might become once they defeat the Powerpunk Girls. Townsville will never be the same as it was, but he can help fix it. Buttercup can stop worrying for a while if she has him to rely on. Brick wishes he knew how to put that in words.

They get to the mall without detection; he dons his third set of clothes in two days. "Now what?" he asks, approaching Buttercup. She's crouching behind an overturned table in the food court with her attention on the horizon.

"They've been circling the perimeter this whole time, and Brute is hanging out by the bridge. I thought about going under it but we'd be spotted in the open before we even got close." She makes a noise of frustration. "We might have to go really far out of the way."

"Not like we're walking," Brick points out.

"I don't have time for that. I was supposed to get this medicine to Blossom yesterday." She doesn't mean to guilt-trip him but he feels it nonetheless. Buttercup spots an entrance to the subway and forms a brash, dangerous idea, just her style. "Okay, here's the plan. I'm gonna attract the Punks' attention and lure them to the far side of the city. That way you'll be home free."

His jaw drops. "Are you crazy? What if they catch you?"

"They won't, I'm gonna lose 'em in the subway tunnels. They probably don't even know we have a system 'cause they're always up in the air." He's still gaping at her. "It'll be fine. They'll be too busy chasing me to notice you." He doesn't like this idea one bit yet follows her to a gas station just before the Citiesville bridge. They still have buildings for cover, staring upward for a good ten minutes to count how many passes Berserk and Brat make. Buttercup wants to alert all three Punks at the same time. "Okay, here they come. On three. One, two…"

"Wait." She gives Brick a glare for the missed opportunity. "I said we'd fight with you, but when will that be? How will we know when you're ready to engage?"

That's actually a good question. "Umm… oh, I got it. We'll have Bubbles send up a lightning ball, a beacon. By the time you guys get here the Punks should be affected by Antidote Y."

So keep watching Townsville. He nods. "We'll be here in time, I promise."

Buttercup smiles wryly. "If you're not then they'll become your problem to deal with. See ya." She rockets into the sky to interrupt Brat and Berserk's flight path, lasering Brute for good measure. Brick watches all four girls go shooting toward the heart of the metro. He's pretty sure Buttercup can outrun them since she's the fastest flyer he's ever seen and she knows the layout of the city better than her enemies. She'll be okay, hopefully.

For two weeks straight Brick sits atop the roof of his apartment building with his eyes on the city. He forgets to eat sometimes, falls asleep there more often than not. Usually Butch or Boomer covers him with a blanket and does the watching until he wakes up again. They call him obsessed but he's just being vigilant; he doesn't want to miss the beacon. They can't afford to miss it. The Powerpuff Girls _need _them. He needs to see if Buttercup is with them.

One day something feels off. None of Ruffs can say exactly what it is but they all go to the roof at the same time, observing in silence. The sky is darker than usual and there's a sort of nervous energy in it, something that makes their already-enhanced senses even sharper. They can smell uncertainty on the wind, they can hear it rushing by the Powerpuffs while they fly to meet the destroyers of Townsville. "Let's go," Brick commands, taking off just before a web of lightning turns the clouds stark white. Their call to battle.

* * *

Buttercup feels like dying, but she's not dead and that's what matters.

She lays on her back staring at the clouds overhead. They're clearing up slowly, pewter giving way to purples and pinks of the setting sun. Neon blue raindrops fall sporadically, the last remnants of the Antidote Y Blossom dumped into the weather machine. It was pretty smart thinking to use the Punks' own gadget against them. Unfortunately there was still Antidote X vapor in the storm system it generated, putting all nine combatants at a disadvantage. It took over two hours of hard fighting but finally the day is saved thanks to the Powerpuff Girls. For the first time ever it was also saved by the Rowdyruff Boys.

Buttercup closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths before willing herself to move. She turns to the left first, spying Butch with his head in Bubbles' lap. He suffered a really nasty blow from Brat, one that would've sheared off half his face if he were anything less than superhuman. There'll be a scar for sure. Bubbles has crimson blood in her hair but luckily most of it isn't hers. She fought harder than Buttercup ever thought her capable of and came out with minimal damage.

She looks right next. Boomer got pretty fucked up too, one of his arms dangling uselessly after being shattered by Berserk. Blossom has a med kit open to treat his more superficial wounds even though she isn't in such great shape, either. Her injured eye wasn't completely healed when she lost a laser beam struggle with the Powerpunk leader. It might be permanently blinded, but as always she's more concerned about taking care of others first.

She doesn't see Brick. Buttercup is positive he landed nearby after they took out Brute, craning her neck to check her six. He's slumped against a now-unidentifiable sculpture in the park, head down as rain drips off his bangs. The poor guy lost his hat _again_. She achingly rolls over, rises to her hands and knees, and crawls the few feet to him. Her whole body hurts after expending every ounce of Chemical X, and the adrenaline is wearing off. Brick looks up when she collapses onto her stomach. "Thanks," she rasps. "Definitely couldn't have done this without you."

He chuckles and then cringes at the pain it elicits. "Welcome. Was it worth it?"

"Of course." If it had been necessary she would've gladly sacrificed herself to take out one of the Punks with her, anything to give her allies an advantage. As long as the rest of them lived to reclaim Townsville, she would've paid any price. It's a miracle none of them were fatally wounded. "So where do you want your statue to be?"

"Stop…" He winces again. "Stop making me laugh. I have broken ribs."

"Sorry." They respectively lay and sit in silence for a minute. "What kinda house do you want?"

Brick exhales a breath of resignation. "About that… I decided I don't need all that stuff we shook on. It's… trivial." What he doesn't tell her is that his whole life has been defined by the desire to obtain material things to fill a void. This is the first time he's done something for someone else, the first time risking his life for a payoff that wasn't guaranteed. He fought for a place he doesn't belong in and for people he doesn't even know because he wanted to make amends for letting that store owner die and pay Buttercup back for saving him. But he can't deny the hope that Townsville's residents will recognize what the Rowdyruffs did for them and say they've earned a place here instead of muscling in uninvited. That's the reward he really wants. And he wouldn't mind seeing more of Buttercup on a regular basis, but that's just being selfish.

She frowns at him. "You don't want any of it? What about that thing from me?"

"It's fine."

"Will you at least tell me what it was?"

He shakes his head once before passing out. She's getting there herself, fighting the urge to succumb to darkness so her body can heal. The Powerpunk Girls are gone, they're in no real danger, but she's been in survival mode for so long she can't just turn it off. Buttercup gives her sisters and Brick's brothers one last glance to make sure they're really okay and closes her eyes, resting her head on her arms.

When she returns to consciousness she's laying on something soft and dry, a hospital bed in a dimly-lit room. Upon further examination she realizes she has been here before, many times in fact. It's the Professor's laboratory at their house. She feels an itch on her arm and discovers an IV attached to a bag of viscous black liquid. Chemical X. Looking around reveals five more identical setups with occupants, except for one.

The door above opens and soft footsteps come down the stairs. It's not the Professor; Buttercup knows his gait by heart. The person halts at the bottom of the stairs, then she hears a soft crunch. "Your home is in pretty good shape, all things considered," Brick remarks. He edges out of the gloom and she's relieved to see him wearing underwear. So is she, thank goodness. "Your old man was prepared for things to go screwy. He's got a solar-powered generator and satellite internet, food and water."

"The Professor isn't old," Buttercup says, "and what're you eating?"

"Pumpkin seeds. Want some?" Food of any kind sounds divine right now. Brick rolls a stool to her bedside and sits with the bag between them. "Prof said they're high in iron which is good 'cause we all experienced a lot of blood loss. You had a hole in your side, y'know."

"I did?" Buttercup lifts the blankets to check out her midsection, poking at a tender patch of new flesh. It's pale instead of lightly tan like the rest of her. How did she not feel that? "Awesome. How's Butch?"

"He'll be okay. No brain damage or anything."

"Good." She pops some seeds into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "So why were you wandering around my house?"

"Got bored," he shrugs. "I'm already healed."

"What? No way." Then again she doesn't spot any signs of injury.

"Seriously, I'm all good. Hit me." He stands to present his stomach for punching. She drives a fist into his diaphragm and he instantly doubles over onto her bed, wheezing. "Ugh, I didn't mean my gut!"

"You didn't specify where!" Buttercup retorts, trying not to disrupt the others with her laughter. Brick sits back down with a groan, resting his head on the edge of her bed. He smiles a little as her fingers brush his bangs aside. "Sorry if I actually hurt you." He waves it off. "Your hair's singed, you know."

"Boomer can cut it." Brick doesn't actually care, perfectly content to lie back as she runs her hands through it. He gives her a sidelong glance when a cool fingertip brushes his cheek. "Your hands are cold."

She pulls away. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing to me." He turns around to clasp her hands between his own, heating them. "I'm the one who needs to say sorry. Sorry for attacking you at the mall, dicking around and getting rained on, making you keep me warm, and for not coming to you sooner about teaming up to fight the Powerpunks. A lot could've been spared if I'd done that."

Buttercup searches his unusually somber countenance. "It's not like you knew what was going on here."

"Yeah, I did," he counters, "I knew exactly what you were dealing with. I watched it happen. But I just sat there and did nothing until they threatened _my _home." His grip tightens. "You kept me safe while I was completely vulnerable, and then you got all three of those bitches to chase you so I could run back to Citiesville. I was afraid you… that they might've caught you… and you wouldn't be there when we joined your sisters and it was my fault for taking you away from them. I just wanted to do the right fucking thing for once…"

Before thinking twice about it Buttercup leans sideways to hug him, but it's kind of awkward since he's at a lower elevation. He remedies this by standing, her arms wrapped around his neck. "You did the right thing, Brick. You're a hero. And even though you said you don't want it any more, you should stay here with us. We'll give you and your brothers a new home." He mutters something into her hair. "Huh?"

"Do _you _want me to stay?" Brick asks more clearly.

She can feel that there are profound emotions attached to this query in the way his pulse races and he desperately clings to her. Is he really that afraid of losing her? "Yeah, I want you to stay," she answers. He definitely earned it. She withdraws to press a soft kiss to his lips. "That was in case words aren't enough to convince you."

He grins like a fool. "Consider me a permanent resident of Townsville. You're never getting rid of me now."

Buttercup smiles and rolls her eyes as he climbs into bed with her, taking care not to get tangled up with the IV. They both sigh at the familiar comfort of holding one another. "If the Professor sees us like this he's gonna freak out." She never told her family about huddling with Brick for warmth.

"Hey, at least I'm not naked this time. And you're under the blanket. Not like I can see or do anything…" He smirks. "Except get you hot and bothered."

"You're already bothering me." Buttercup mulls over something. "Are you ever gonna tell me what that thing you wanted was?"

"You just gave it to me."

"Oh. A kiss?" She regards him incredulously. "You wanted me to kiss you in exchange for saving the city?"

"Yeah…" Brick pulls her a little closer to his heart. "It was totally worth fighting for."


	2. Croquis 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Features **Butchubbles** in a no powers, slice of life college AU. Ongoing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of four.

**Model**

Butch scanned the bulletin board for new on-campus job postings, part of his morning routine for the past month and a half. Get dressed, grab a caffeinated beverage, check flyers, go to English class. Nothing had caught his eye until now, and he paused to give the sticky note more than a cursory glance.

_ ‘Models wanted for art study. $$’ _

The blue post-it was still there the next day and the day after. Maybe nobody noticed it in the upper left corner, but Butch did because it was directly at his eye level. Maybe it was some kind of sign from the universe that his financial hardship would be alleviated by modeling. Yeah, right; he didn’t believe in shit like that. What did “art study” mean, anyway? He’d have to stand around while people doodled him? He snatched the piece of paper. Easy money.

A name and room number were written on the back. Butch had never been in the art building, casting his gaze about like a lost child in a mall. “Um, sorry…” He stepped into the path of a guy walking by. “Know where this is?” Upstairs. The door was wide open, revealing a spacious area filled with easels and chairs. A singular large window had its curtains drawn to flood the room with natural light, and a man with greying hair bustled at the rear. Butch tentatively knocked on the frame. “Hi, um, I’m here ‘bout this?” He proffered the note and the man’s face brightened.

The gig entailed exactly what he assumed: he had to pose for students attending a weekly figure drawing class. The instructor, Farber, put him at ease by saying he wouldn’t be naked. Nude models were outsourced since it might be uncomfortable for students to encounter peers they’d studied in the buff. Butch could wear plain black or white fitted underwear. He had to hold a variety of poses for differing lengths of time, which the professor would dictate during the actual session. There was also the possibility of being invited back or referred to other instructors.

“Found a job,” Butch informed his roommate when they met up on the soccer field that afternoon.

“Doing what?” Harry asked. As far as roommates went he was just fine minus his propensity to let laundry pile up until it reeked. They both generated a lot of sweaty workout clothes but Butch dutifully washed his every Wednesday, one thing it’d be nice to have extra quarters for.

“Gonna model for an art class,” he answered. “Twenty-five bucks an hour but it’s only two hours.”

“That ain’t very much.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “What’s the point, then?”

“Might get asked to do it again.” Which he was sort of banking on, so he didn’t want to fuck up the opportunity.

That Sunday Butch arrived fifteen minutes prior to the class with nothing more than a water bottle and the clothes on his back, taking a seat on a padded stool in the middle of the room. The easels had been situated around it, placing him centerstage. His foot bounced while he watched the clock tick. “It’s okay to be nervous,” Professor Farber said, smiling kindly. “Just try to keep the fidgeting to a minimum.” Butch nodded, but he doubted his own ability to sit still for too long. “So, are you an athlete?”

“Soccer,” Butch confirmed.

“Mm, I see. Hoping to go pro?”

“That’s the dream.”

“What’s your major? I hope it’s not psychology.”

Butch half-smiled at the stereotype. “Kinesiology.”

“Interesting!” Professor Farber beamed. “Where are you from if you don’t mind me asking?”

“New York.”

“And you came all the way out here to play soccer?”

There were several reasons why Butch had moved across the country to attend Oakview College in California. It was peaceful, which he appreciated after spending his whole life in the City that Never Slept. Nobody knew him so he had a clean slate. The nearby metropolitan center, Townsville, had a reputation for being filled with happy, friendly residents, and a large percentage of the student body lived there. Butch’s main motivation for leaving home was to avoid family drama, but he didn’t think the nice professor wanted to hear that. “It’s quiet,” he replied. “Needed space to think.”

Farber nodded sagely. A knock came at the door just then and his first students began filing in. Everyone bid the professor good morning, chatting with their friends while getting situated. The man stood ready to close the door one minute before ten o’clock, tutting when a trio of girls sprinted inside. “You three were almost locked out again!” he chided.

“Sorry, Farb!” they chorused, giggling. Other students rolled their eyes as the girls found seats in the far corner; apparently the trio had a reputation. After locking the door, windowless so passersby couldn’t peep at the artistic nudes, the professor gave Butch a nod indicating it was safe to undress. He removed his shoes and socks before pulling his shirt off, eliciting some sounds of intrigue and approval. They were faint since it was bad manners for students to comment on the models, but he still heard them.

“Can I sketch him like that, in jeans?” someone inquired.

“I want to, too!” another artist piped up.

“Do you mind?” Professor Farber asked of Butch, and he most certainly did not. Several girls in the class eyed him with heated interest. If he were after a relationship right now instead of a high GPA, he could have any one he wanted. “Five minutes for this pose,” the professor announced. Butch sat with his hands clasped on his lap, surveying the room as the artists focused on their sketchbooks, pencils skritch-scratching. Once time was up he ditched his jeans, hunching forward on the stool. Then he did some standing poses and the first half-hour passed in a flash.

The next hour was spent holding more dynamic poses. First Butch leaned against the window while looking pensive, then he stood with his arms behind his neck as if stretching after a workout, then he laid on the floor while pretending to read. Students moved around the room, drawing him in greater detail from different angles. One girl, one of the three running late, sat close to his head, her sky blue eyes constantly flicking from her page to him. Butch watched her draw his own eyes in great detail, using black and forest green charcoal pencils. After about ten minutes he noticed the pencils stopped moving and she simply stared at him. “Hi?” he whispered, barely a breath. They were supposed to keep the talking to a minimum.

The girl blinked and blushed, the freckle-dusted apples of her cheeks matching her pink lips. She smiled shyly. “Hi. Your eyes are, like, _ really _pretty.”

“They are?” he asked, surprised.

“Totally,” the girl insisted, also whispering. “They’re like emeralds.”

“Emeralds…” he repeated. “Never heard that before.”

“Well, it’s true. I’ve never seen eyes like yours.” She gathered her materials and scurried back to her corner spot. Butch couldn’t turn his head to see, but he was pretty sure he heard her murmuring with her two friends. Way to make him self-conscious.

Professor Farber instructed him to lean on the stool with his chin in his hand for the final twenty-minute pose, but Butch had gotten restless after two hours of remaining stationary. He could go for a run later, hit up the gym, or grab food with Harry because he was really hungry now that he realized it, and it _ was _lunchtime…

No sooner had he formed that thought than his stomach audibly growled, making most of the students look up in alarm. Shit, how embarrassing. Butch took deep breaths but it didn’t work, his stomach gurgling like a ravenous beast. Thanks to his crazy-fast metabolism and the fact that he was undergoing yet another growth spurt, his gut currently resembled more of a black hole than a normal human digestive system. “Is that _ you?_” someone asked, regarding him in disbelief.

“Sorry,” was all Butch could muster, but the professor laughed gently.

“I suppose we can end five minutes early before you pass out. Great job, everyone. I saw a lot of good work today.” Butch hurriedly got dressed, pausing as Farber handed him an extra ten dollar bill with his fifty. “Go eat something.”

“Thanks.” Butch got the hell out of there before the artists judged him too severely.

“Hey, model dude! Wait a sec!” He glanced back from the foot of the stairs to see the trio of late girls coming after him. One tripped on the bottom step and almost face-planted but caught herself, springing upright. “You!” She pointed at him. “Must be starving, right?”

“We want to buy you lunch!” said a brunette with big blue doe eyes. Most people were short compared to Butch but she was especially diminutive.

“Is that okay?” asked the girl who had likened his eyes to emeralds. She was blonde, the tallest of the three, and noticeably curvier than her friends. She also wore glasses now, giving her a cute bookish vibe.

“You wanna buy me lunch?” Butch echoed. “Why?”

“We have a proposition for you.”

The girls were all sophomores and locals, “Townies” as anyone from the metro affectionately referred to themselves as. They waited until after ordering food from the bistro to introduce themselves, the peppy girl shaking his hand first. “Nice to meet you, I’m Kim Kee. If you make jokes about kimchee or soy sauce I’ll hurt you.”

He deduced that she was Korean. “Butch,” he replied, dwarfing her palm.

The brunette shook his hand next, but it was kind of awkward since she was a lefty. “I’m Robin, and if you make jokes about robin’s egg blue I too will hurt you.” Her sweet smile made him dubious of that claim.

The blonde girl was also left-handed. “I’m… Bubbles,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

His brow rose. “Bubbles?”

“Tell him your full name!” Kim prompted.

She hedged, then sighed in resignation. “Sophia Bubbles Utonium.”

“Wow.”

“Ugh, it’s so stupid, I know!” She buried her face in her hands.

“No, it’s cute,” Butch refuted. She peeked at him between her fingers and that was really cute, too. “Why go by your middle name?”

Bubbles slumped in her seat. “It’s like ripping off the bandage. Once everyone knows my stupid name they can get it all out of their system.”

Butch shook his head. He definitely wasn’t creative enough to come up with ways to tease these girls about their names. “If it makes you feel better, my middle name is Mann. Two N’s.”

“Your name is ‘Butch Mann’?” Kim gaped at him. “That’s so perfect. Guys, I told you he was perfect.”

“Perfect for what?” he wondered.

Robin folded her hands very business-like. “We would like to proposition you to be our croquis.” That word was foreign to him. “A croquis is a human form typically referenced for fashion,” she explained. “Designers trace over croquis so they don’t have to draw bases from scratch all the time.”

“Except we aren’t fashion designers,” Kim said, “we’re comic artists.”

“And we could _ really _use a male model for reference,” Bubbles finished. “It’s a superhero comic, and you look like one, so…” She trailed off, cheeks flushing.

Butch was stunned. “I do?”

“Yeah dude!” Kim, sitting beside him, lifted his arm as if presenting a trophy. “Like, do you own a mirror? These are superhero biceps. And you have _ abs _.”

“Six of them!” Bubbles added with a giggle.

“And a nice butt…” Kim paused. “By the way, we’d need to draw you naked.”

Butch raised his hands. “Whoa, hold up. I posed for your art class ‘cause I got to keep my junk covered. I don’t even _ know _you.”

“How well do you have to know someone to see them naked?” Robin returned. “It’s not like we’re using you to draw porn.” Bubbles cleared her throat. “Well, okay, there is _ one _scene…”

He leaned as far away from these crazy girls as he could get. “Why the hell would I say yes to that?!”

They exchanged looks, Bubbles lacing her fingers beneath her chin. “We’ll pay you.”

“Pay me?” His tone changed. “How much?”

“How much do you want?” she returned. “Twenty? Thirty? Fifty?”

“Per day?”

“Per _ hour_,” Bubbles corrected.

Fifty bucks an hour to let them reference him for a comic? But he’d have to get naked, and who knew what kind of strange poses they’d put him in? But he could really use the money. It was a tempting offer. “I dunno…”

“Butch, _ c’mon_,” Kim whined. “You’re the _ archetype_. You’re _ perfect_. Where are you from, anyway? I like your accent.”

“Manhattan,” he answered. If they were trying to ply him with flattery it was starting to work.

“Ooh, a New Yorker! Even better! That’s like the home of every superhero!”

Bubbles drummed her painted nails on the tabletop. “How about we give you some time to think it over?”

Like they _ expected _him to say yes right away? Their food arrived and Butch ate with gusto, finishing a double-decker burger in two minutes flat. He then dispensed ketchup all over his French fries. “Eww, who does that?” Kim demanded, wrinkling her nose. “You’re supposed to put ketchup on the side. Now no one wants your fries.”

“That’s the point,” Butch said. “Stopped my brothers from stealing them.”

“You have brothers?” Bubbles sounded intrigued.

“Two. The older one, Brick, hangs with a bad crowd. The younger one, Boomer, is a spoiled little shit.”

“So you’re in the middle.” She placed a hand on her chest. “_I’m _ the youngest. I have two sisters, Blossom and Buttercup.”

“Mmph.” He couldn’t say much else while cramming fries into his mouth. “They go here?”

“Nope. Blossom goes to Columbia and Buttercup is in Alaska wrestling polar bears or something.”

“She sounds awesome,” Butch remarked. Bubbles sighed, hearing that all too often throughout her life.

Robin laughed. “Buttercup is an adrenaline junkie. She’s mountain climbing in Alaska, not wrestling polar bears.”

“Which would be _ really _awesome,” Kim said, “and hey, isn’t Columbia in Manhattan?” Butch nodded. “Why didn’t you just go there? What’re you doing here, anyway?”

Robin wondered that, too. “Yeah, Oakview is basically the default option for kids from Townsville and Citiesville since they accept everyone. What are you majoring in?”

“Health science.” Butch’s response to Kim was delayed by sucking down a milkshake. “Got a soccer scholarship.” The three girls hummed in comprehension as he gave the menu behind the counter a longing look.

“Want something else?” Bubbles offered. She had paid for everyone’s meals with a shiny debit card, leading Butch to assume she was a rich girl. But she hadn’t bought anything for herself.

“Mozzarella sticks sound good. And a club sandwich. And another shake.”

Kim’s eyes widened. “How can you eat that much? I’ve known a few guys who could put away food, but damn. That’s two whole meals!”

“Didn’t really have anything since yesterday morning,” Butch replied. They regarded him pityingly and Bubbles left her chair to place another order for him.

“Don’t you have a meal plan?” Robin asked.

“Yeah, but…” He spent that allowance on something besides food. “It’s not enough,” he lied.

Kim waved it off. “You’re a big dude, and you’re an athlete so you need lots of calories, right? You could eat as much as you want if you agreed to be our croquis. Obviously we weren’t expecting you to do it for free. We’ll pay you in cash every session.”

The deal sounded sweeter, but he still had doubts. Robin smiled reassuringly. “Sorry if we freaked you out by bringing up nudity first thing. It’s just easier to draw people from reference when there’s nothing in the way. But we can ease into that, after you get comfortable around us. We wouldn’t even need a croquis if we were good at drawing the male figure.”

“Yeah, the story is about these three girls being awesome and supportive of each other and kicking ass. When it was just them, we used ourselves as references.” Kim gestured to Butch. “Now that there’s a male love interest, it’d be nice to have a muscular guy to reference.”

Bubbles returned, setting a new tray of food atop his empty one. “If you say no, we’ll keep looking for somebody. It’s your choice.” She tried acting casual by examining her nails. “Most students would kill for a gig like this. No one else is willing to pay you fifty dollars an hour to stand around looking pretty.”

She was right and Butch knew it. He needed cash, they were offering, and all he had to do was be his handsome, physically-fit self. Grabbing that sticky note off the bulletin board had landed him in as ideal a situation as he was going to find. And he wasn’t _ that _opposed to random girls seeing him naked since he was willing to do it for art students, which they were. Posing for them would probably be no different from that morning. “How often would you need me?” he asked.

“Every day,” Robin answered. “We work on the comic every day after classes. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes until midnight. We take Sunday off to relax.”

So Butch would be pocketing a minimum of five-hundred bucks a week. He’d have to be insane to say no to that. “Okay…” he agreed, and all three girls broke into huge smiles. “I’ll do it.”

He just sold his body for art.


	3. Croquis 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of four.

**Acquaintance**

Butch double-checked his phone to ensure he stood outside the right dorm room, because it would be really awkward if someone asked what he was doing there and he had to explain he was trying to find three girls who were paying him to get naked for them. He doubted that would fly with the RA even if he used the artistic merit angle. He knocked on the door, relieved when Bubbles answered and indicated he come in. “Wow, you have an actual kitchen?” He and Harry had to make do with their mini fridges and shared microwave.

“Yep! All the triple and quadruple rooms have them,” Robin replied. Theirs also contained one single bed and perpendicular bunk beds with a small desk tucked beneath it, another larger desk that appeared to be their primary work station, two armoires, and a variety of reconfigurable furniture. The girls waited for Butch to finish examining their space, his gaze landing on them expectantly.

“Strip!” Kim commanded, laughing at his expression of mild shock. “Not fully, just your shirt. We said we’d work up to nudity, remember?”

“Right…” He grabbed the back of his collar.

“Wait!” Robin eyed him curiously. “Why do guys _ always _pull off their shirts like that?”

“Omigod, they _ do! _ I never noticed!” Bubbles looked him up and down. “Why don’t you do it the other way, from the bottom?”

“Can’t,” Butch answered simply.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Kim asked. Rolling his eyes, he demonstrated their method only to get stuck at his chest. “I don’t understand. Are you just inflexible or are your muscles too big? Anyway, hold that pose for a minute.” Butch sighed but she finished sketching soon enough. “Okay, you can take it off now.”

From then on he was subjected to instruction mostly from Kim, occasionally from Robin, and never from Bubbles. While the first two girls flitted around him with their tablets and styluses in hand, Bubbles remained seated at the large desk where she worked on a laptop. Butch decided it was too quiet for a room with four people in it. “How’d you guys get into this?” he queried.

Bubbles sighed wistfully. “It started in junior high. I had this idea for a written story but after sharing it with Robin she said it needed visuals, so we worked out the plot and designed the characters and began publishing a comic in the school’s monthly newsletter. Kids kept telling us they wanted to show their friends at other schools, so I asked my older sister, Blossom, if she could make us a website where we could post it. And everything basically snowballed from there!”

Robin grinned. “Yep, that’s how it happened! In high school we found out Kim was way better at drawing people than either of us, and we liked her style, so we actually took the comic down for a while to redesign the whole thing.”

Kim nodded slowly. “I do the rough sketches and splash images. Robin does the line art, color flats, and backgrounds. Bubbles does the page layouts, text, and shading.”

“At first it was just a fun hobby,” Bubbles went on, “but then we started getting sponsors after the redesign. Last year it got super popular in Brazil of all places and now we earn enough money every month that it’s like our real job.”

“So we try to publish at least four pages a month since people pay for regular content,” Robin finished.

Butch half-smiled. “Guess it’s bad if I don’t read it, right? Since I’m sorta in it now.”

“No offense, but we really just needed you for your body. The character doesn’t resemble you.” Kim paused to examine her drawing, tilting her head. “Although, I might’ve given him your jawline and mouth. But he’s Latino and I don’t think you are.” She scrutinized him. “Right?”

He shrugged. “Bit of a mutt. Irish, Greek, Italian, and Russian. Me and my brothers look nothing alike.”

“I can see each of those ethnicities in you,” she remarked. “People are like tapestries.”

Bubbles turned around with wide eyes. “Kim…”

“What?”

“That was really beautiful.”

“Was it?” She blushed lightly. “I was just trying to tell Butch he’s a good-looking dude.” Her friends exchanged a glance that she missed.

They finished working at 11:30. Bubbles withdrew three-hundred dollars from her wallet to pay Butch for his six hours of modeling services, noting how grateful and relieved he appeared. They had ordered teriyaki for dinner so he couldn’t be _ that _hungry still. She wondered if he really needed it to supplement his meal plan, hoping her money wasn’t going toward a drug habit. Some students smoked pot which was completely harmless, but she knew others who took meth to extend their cram sessions. That stuff was nasty; she’d seen the effects of long-term use when she volunteered at a rehab center one summer. Not to mention Butch would lose his scholarship if he failed to pass a drug test.

With a sigh Bubbles leaned against the door, rubbing the bridge of her nose where her glasses left indents. After mulling something over she opened her eyes and drew in a breath, but Robin beat her to the punch. “Hey Kim, are you crushing on Butch already?”

She lay in bed on her phone, browsing Hot Topic’s site where the majority of her pastel goth wardrobe came from. “Huh? No, of course not. And what do you mean ‘already’?”

“Well, you tend to fall for hot jocks,” Bubbles said.

Kim lowered her phone. “So I have a type, sue me. Doesn’t mean I’m going to hook up with Butch.”

“Just keep in mind that we need him until this story arc is complete.”

“So you’re worried about me scaring him off or something? What the hell, you guys?”

Robin raised her hands defensively. “It’s just that you get aggressive when it comes to winning over guys you like!”

“Well I don’t like him like that so chill!” Kim faced the wall with a huff. “Good night!”

“Night,” Robin and Bubbles chorused, the latter climbing up to her top bunk.

Kim did little to alleviate their concerns as Halloween neared. She was _ overtly _flirting with Butch and he seemed to be reciprocating. Then again, they still didn’t know him very well so maybe he was just being open. He started bringing his homework, chipping away at it so he wouldn’t fall behind thanks to spending late nights in their room. He was only taking prereqs that quarter, but a few were relevant to his field of interest. “What the hell is kinesiology, anyway?” Kim wondered. She sat behind him on the floor to capture a dynamic angle.

“Study of movement,” Butch explained. “Gets pretty interesting when you reach biomechanics. In case I don’t become a pro soccer player, I wanna do physical therapy.”

“Wow, medical school. No thank you.” Robin shook her head, impressed he was considering it. “We’ll stick with our easy art majors.”

“Why’re you even here if you’re like paid pros already?” Butch asked.

“We’re self-taught so there’s a lot to learn still,” Bubbles said. “I’m working on my digital skills ‘cause I hand-drew and colored everything at first. I’m learning more about composition and storyboarding. I don’t know about you two, but these sessions have already improved my male anatomy.” Robin and Kim hummed in agreement. “Also, it helps to have credentials. Art is about talent but some people take you more seriously when you have a piece of paper confirming you’re good at something.”

“Right, this series isn’t going to last forever,” Robin added, a sad note in her tone. “Once we’re done, hopefully we can make it as freelance artists.”

“You guys just depressed the shit out of me.” Kim stopped sketching. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that someone gave me an invite to a super-secret Halloween party in Citiesville.”

“How is it super-secret?” Butch questioned.

“Apparently you have to give a password at the door. It’s, like, underground or something.” Kim moved in front of him. “Would you and your roomie want to come with?”

He considered it. “I’ll go, but dunno ‘bout Harry.”

Bubbles turned around. “Wait, what’s his last name?”

“Pitt.”

All three girls started laughing. “No way! We’ve gone to school with him since kindergarten!”

Butch blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah! But his parents sent him to a military academy our senior year of high school.” Butch nodded; Harry’s dad hoped he’d enlist. “And now you guys are on the soccer team together. What a small world!” Bubbles looked thoughtful. “I wonder if he remembers us?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Hard to forget _ him _when Mitch was always daring him to kiss girls.”

“That kid was such a jerk,” Kim grumbled. “He’s the one who started calling me ‘Kimchee’.”

“I was ‘Birdbrain’,” Robin provided.

“‘Chubbles’ here,” Bubbles added.

“Chubbles?” Butch repeated. “But you’re not even chubby.” She forced a smile and turned back to her computer.

After a moment of awkward silence, Kim piped up again. “I’m going to cosplay as KDA Akali from League of Legends, with the blacklight makeup.”

“Ooh, you can definitely pull that off!” Robin praised. “I’m going as Anna from Frozen.”

“You’re _ always _a Disney princess for Halloween.”

“It’s not my fault they wear pretty dresses!” she returned. “Bubbles?”

Her shoulders rose and fell. “I have some old costumes in storage at home. Pirate, fairy, vampire… I’ll find something.”

“Do I gotta wear a costume?” Butch inquired.

“Yes!” the girls all but shouted at him. “Not dressing up for Halloween is lame!”

“Hey, how are we going to get to the party?” Robin questioned next. “Do you even have an address, Kim?”

“Of course! And… I don’t know,” she admitted.

At that Butch broke his pose to grab his phone, shooting a text to his roommate. It didn’t take long for a response. “Harry’ll drive. He’s got a car.”

Kim beamed. “Awesome! Let’s meet up at the oak tree in the quad at, say, seven o’clock.”

For better or worse, Halloween fell on a Wednesday. Butch was already resigned to the fact that he’d probably be sleeping off a hangover the next morning, missing his English class. Biology was the one he wanted to ace, though. Harry gasped and clutched at him as they crossed the quad. “Oh my god, it’s Akali. Who _ is _that chick?!”

“Someone you know,” Butch replied with a laugh.

“I think I’d remember a girl that hot!” Harry managed to compose himself by the time they reached the tree. “Hey, I’m Harry. Nice to meet you.”

The girls giggled. “You’ve met us before.”

“I have?”

“We only went to school together for the majority of our lives,” Kim stated. He looked completely clueless. “Kim Kee, Robin Snyder, Bubbles Utonium.”

“Oh! Holy shit, I didn’t even recognize you! You look so different!” He regarded them in amazement.

“Well, it _ has _been three years,” Bubbles pointed out. “You definitely got taller.”

“Still rocking the buzz cut, I see!” Robin commented.

“Yeah…” He sheepishly rubbed his head. “So, should we get going?” Kim relayed directions from her map app while riding shotgun. Harry parked in an underground garage to keep his car safe from vandals who might be prowling around on Halloween night, then they set out on foot through Citiesville, trailing Kim down an alley ending at a steel door. Butch banged on it and a metal flap slid aside to reveal a tough-looking man.

“Password?” he grunted.

“Inferno,” Kim answered.

The flap closed and the door opened inward. “Welcome to Hell,” said the bouncer. “Enjoy your stay.”

They descended a smooth stone corridor, deep bass reverberating along the walls. Red LEDs embedded in the floor provided just enough light to see where they were going, and a curtain resembling flickering flames greeted them at the end. On the other side was a huge cavern with a bar to the left side, restrooms to the right, metal walkways and balconies affixed to the rock overhead, a DJ podium in the way-back, and a massive crowd of people in the center. There were also cages suspended from the ceiling holding scantily-clad men and women. “This place is fucking _ lit_,” Kim stated. “Let’s go!”

Robin, the sensible one, stopped her and Harry from getting swept up by the mob. “Wait! Let’s meet at one of those tables in a couple hours.” Receiving dismissive nods, they disappeared together. Robin sighed. “I already need a drink.”

Butch and Bubbles joined her at the bar. All the cocktails had themed names like ‘Hellfire’ and ‘Demon Blood’ and ‘Devil’s Kiss’. Robin just opted for a vodka and cranberry. Bubbles tried something called an ‘Angel Wing’ containing marshmallow foam, and Butch ordered a seasonal hard cider. After Robin finished her drink some unknown guy in a princely getup asked her to dance, whisking her away. “You can get out there, too,” Bubbles told Butch. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

He shook his head once, firmly. “Not gonna leave you. Pretty sure there’s drugs floating around this place.”

Her eyes widened. “How can you tell?”

“Got a vibe.” Bubbles blinked at him. “My little brother, Boomer, sorta developed an ecstasy habit last year. Always has this dopey look on his face. And Brick sorta runs drugs for a gang.”

“How do you ‘sort of’ do either of those things?” Bubbles started to reach for his hand but stopped halfway, pulling back. “I’m sorry.”

For almost touching him or for his dysfunctional siblings? “S’okay,” Butch shrugged, “just want you to be careful.”

“Why me specifically?”

“‘Cause you’re cute?” he said as if it were obvious. “You look all innocent dressed like Tinker Bell. People’ll try taking advantage of that.” Her brow knitted. She should’ve worn the pirate costume. “Mind if I stick with you?” Butch asked.

“I guess not…” Bubbles muttered, sipping her drink. It was so sweet she had downed the whole thing before realizing it. “Do you like Kim?” Oops, that thought was supposed to stay locked up in her head.

Butch regarded her in confusion. “Why would you ask?”

“She’s only been flirting with you since you started modeling for us.”

“I know, but…” Maybe it seemed like he was flirting back? “Listen, I’m not into Kim like that. I just… never told her to stop ‘cause I didn’t wanna sabotage this gig with you guys.”

Bubbles slapped the counter. “If she makes you uncomfortable you _ have _ to say something! If you don’t like her putting the moves on you then it’s your _ right _ to tell her to knock it off! You’re not a manikin, you’re a _ person!_”

He waved it away. “Doesn’t really bother me. She’s not my type, anyway.”

“Oh.” Bubbles relaxed a bit, sucking up the rest of the foam in her glass. What type of girl did he like, then? “Are you even straight?” Wow, she totally did not mean to say _ that _out loud. The Angel Wing seemed to have given her the gift of gab.

Butch chuckled. “Yeah.”

Shaking her head at herself, Bubbles stood up. “Want to dance?”

She was way better than him. Butch’s dancing experience consisted of doing the Cha Cha Slide in P.E. as well as memorizing ‘Thriller’ for a tenth grade talent show performance at Boomer’s behest. They won so he supposed the embarrassment was worth it. The gleeful expression on Bubbles’ face was worth it now. He spun her, dipped her, and let her stand on his feet so she didn’t have to strain to cross her wrists behind his neck. The music was loud so Butch felt rather than heard her stomach rumbling. “Wanna leave and get something to eat?” he suggested.

“I’m good,” Bubbles answered, “but if you do, I’ll go with. It’s not good to wander around Citiesville by yourself.”

Butch raised an eyebrow. “_Sure _ you’re not hungry?”

“I’m positive!” Yet she looked away as she said it. “I ate before we left.”

He didn’t believe her. On the day they first met, she bought lunch for him, Robin, and Kim but not herself. Since he now ate dinner with the three girls more often than not, he noticed Bubbles took a tiny portion of whatever they ordered or cooked and typically didn’t even eat it, sticking it in the fridge as leftovers. She only drank water and tea, and it was always her who called an end to their creative sessions, fatigued from hunger it seemed. Maybe her friends didn’t realize it because they were used to her routine, but Butch saw everything with fresh eyes. And what he’d observed so far made him believe Bubbles intentionally starved herself because she thought she was overweight.

But was it his place to say or do anything about her eating habits?

Bubbles bought two more cocktails for them both, but since they were strong drinks and she was a small girl with nothing in her stomach to soak up the alcohol, she got tipsy. Her spritely laugh allowed Robin to locate them without much effort. “Are you two doing okay?” she asked upon joining them at a balcony table.

“Yep,” Butch replied, “been keeping an eye on Bubbles.”

“Psh, like I need you to babysit me you big _ doofus_.”

Robin patted her bare shoulder. “You’re drunk already, Bubs?” She mouthed an “I’m sorry” to Butch.

Bubbles grinned at her. “Where’s that _ cuuute _guy you went off with?”

“Calling his friends, like we should be doing. I don’t see Kim or Harry anywhere and they’re both hard to miss.” The latter was dressed as a mummy, wrapped in bright white gauze. Robin texted Kim while Butch sent _ ‘where u at?’ _ to Harry. “The cute guy’s name is Kristopher, by the way.”

Bubbles sputtered a laugh at the coincidence. “Anna and Kristoff sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“We didn’t kiss! We’ve been talking!”

“First comes _ lurve_, then comes _ mawwiage…_”

Robin covered Bubbles’ mouth to stifle the rest. “So how’s your night been so far, Butch? Bet you went to a lot of great Halloween parties in New York.”

“Not much of a party guy, actually.” He looked sheepish. “This is the first real Halloween thing I’ve ever been to.”

“Which is why we gotta get back out there and _ keep on dancing!_” Bubbles grooved to the No Doubt song playing in her head.

“Yeah, yeah.” Robin smiled a little. “Hey, didn’t you have something to tell Butch?”

Bubbles thought for a moment, features scrunched in concentration. “That his costume is cool?”

He grinned. “Thanks. Didn’t used to be a costume.” Both girls were curious. “Used to be a drummer in a punk rock band.”

“No way!” Robin exclaimed.

_ “I’m just a singer in a rock and roll band!” _ Bubbles trilled. She’d heard a lot of Moody Blues growing up.

“Care to elaborate?”

He shrugged. “Not much to say. Some high school buddies needed a drummer and I got a set to wail on as a kid so I agreed to help them out. Actually learned to play because of them. And I got piercings ‘cause of those assholes.”

“I think your earrings are neat,” Bubbles said matter-of-factly.

“So is playing the drums,” Robin added, checking her phone. “Kim says she’s getting some fresh air with Harry. In that case, I’m going back to dancing with Kris. Check back in another hour?”

Butch nodded and Bubbles shooed her away. After a beat she said, “I wanna margarita.”

“Let’s dance some more first.” Hopefully she’d sweat out the booze she’d already ingested. Bubbles was such a goofball, bouncing on her toes and waving her arms in the air and singing surprisingly well along to songs she knew. Butch caught more than a few skeevy guys scoping her out, but one look from him averted their gazes. A single hour turned into several; by the time he glanced at his phone again it was close to one in the morning. “How ‘bout that margarita?” he offered.

“Yay!” Bubbles pranced up to the bar and ordered a green apple drink, sipping happily while Butch tried not to slump against the counter. He was not cut out for the party-all-night lifestyle. “I didn’t see any of our friends the whole time we were out there,” Bubbles said.

“Me neither.” He sent Harry an _ ‘r u ok?’_, surprised to receive an immediate response.

_ ‘Fine. Waiting at car 4 u guys.’ _

_ ‘Still with Kim?’ _

_ ‘Yeah’ _

“Harry’s with Kim,” Butch relayed, and Bubbles went “hmm”. Based on her expression they were thinking the same thing, but it wasn’t wise to jump to conclusions.

Robin found them soon enough, heaving a sigh. “It’s late, I’m tired. Do you think Kim will be disappointed if I wanted to call it a night?”

“I’m with you,” Butch agreed. “Bubbles?”

She downed the rest of her margarita and nodded. “I’m hungry now.” The three of them headed for the exit, both girls shivering in the cold night air. Butch removed his leather jacket and gave it to them to share. On the way back to the parking garage they made a detour to Jack in the Box, ordering twenty tacos so everyone could have four. Bubbles asserted she was only going to eat three. They found Harry and Kim sitting on the trunk of his car, whispering and laughing to each other. “Well!” Bubbles shouted, her voice echoing through the structure, “I distinctly recall this outing being _ your _idea, Kim! Why’d you go and bail on us, huh?”

She attempted to look guilty but sabotaged herself by radiating smug satisfaction. “I didn’t mean to. We were trying to talk and catch up but it was super loud in there, so we went outside. Then we got a little lost after wandering around so we tried asking some people if they knew how to get to Hell, which didn’t really work.”

“But we found the car, at least!” Harry grinned. Butch observed that his costume was not in the same state as it had been previously, and Kim’s makeup was smudged.

Robin sighed deeply again. “I think the three of us are done for the night. Can we head back to campus?”

“Sure thing.” Kim fed Harry a few tacos during the drive, a weirdly personal gesture for two people who had always been acquaintances at most. Bubbles passed out before they returned to school so Butch carried her up to her room, waiting for Robin to unlock the door. Apparently their other two friends hadn’t had enough fun for one night and went to join in on a horror movie marathon.

“Thanks a lot, Butch,” Robin spoke through a yawn, “for looking out for Bubbles. She’s a total lightweight. Oh, and thanks for lending us your jacket.” He slung it over his shoulder in a greaser-esque fashion. “Obviously we won’t be working on the comic tomorrow, so we’ll see you on Friday. Or at the bistro, maybe.”

He ducked his chin. “That guy didn’t give you anything, did he? You were awake the whole time?”

Robin blinked at him for a few seconds before catching on. “Oh, no. Kris was really sweet.” She blushed. “We only talked, didn’t have anything to drink. It’s hard to believe a guy like that grew up in Citiesville.” Butch knew what she meant since certain neighborhoods in Manhattan were just as sketchy, but they all had their good eggs. “Thanks again, and happy Halloween.”

Butch wished she didn’t feel the need to thank him for ensuring no one took advantage of her and Bubbles. “No problem. See you soon.”


	4. Croquis 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three of four.

**Friend**

The manner in which Butch awoke the next morning could almost be considered worse than if he had a hangover. He was pulled from peaceful slumber by the sound of Harry’s stomach contents spilling into the toilet, each heave punctuated by a curse on the various types of alcohol he’d consumed last night. “Fuck rum… Fuck schnapps… Fuck tequila…”

Butch dragged himself out of bed and shuffled over, mussing his dark hair, then he blinked in confusion. “Why’re you puking up blue shit?”

“Blue raspberry Jell–oh fuck–shots,” Harry barely managed to reply, turning back to the bowl.

Butch had just cleaned it and frowned at the fact that he’d have to again. He flipped the switch for the fan. “Too much sugar,” he scolded, nudging Harry’s foot with his own. “Want a breakfast sandwich or something?”

“Y-yeah…” Harry groaned. “And sorry ‘bout this, I’ll clean later.”

“Nah, I’ll do it. Get some sleep.” Butch threw on sweatpants, a tank top and flip flops, grabbed his wallet and left for the bistro. He could feasibly make it to his English class on time since it was only 8:30, but he didn’t really feel like it. He felt like taking a personal day; maybe he’d hog an elliptical in the gym until Bio. They were easier on his knees, anyway. He froze for a second when he saw Robin and Bubbles waiting in line for coffee drinks, expecting them to have slept in after the party. Lord knew he wanted to. “Sup,” Butch greeted, and they faced him together.

“Morning!” Robin said cheerily. “Did Harry make it back to your room in one piece?”

“Everything ‘cept his guts. Those’re getting flushed.”

Bubbles looked sympathetic. “Same with Kim. There must have been a ton of booze and candy at that movie marathon.”

“You two’re fine?” Butch ventured.

“Yes, just tired.” Robin’s yawn cemented that statement. “How about you?”

“Never better.” In all honesty he felt a little self-conscious. Both girls were dressed in trendy seasonal outfits and he looked like a slacker. He hadn’t even showered yet; thank god his deodorant didn’t know when to quit.

“Can I buy you breakfast?” Bubbles offered. Butch’s head swiveled toward her in surprise. “I mean, I _ want _to buy you breakfast… as thanks for watching out for us last night.”

“Oh, uhh, okay.” His and Harry’s typical order amounted to fifteen dollars which no longer felt like such a gouge to his wallet, and for Bubbles it was chump change. Butch knew her dad was some kind of hot-shot scientist with cash to burn. “Thanks a lot,” he said, lifting the takeaway bag in farewell. “No work tonight, right?”

“Right,” Robin confirmed. “Kim is totally out of it. We’ll pick things up tomorrow.” Butch nodded and left. No sooner had the door bells finished jingling than Bubbles released a deep beleaguered sigh. Robin knew exactly why. “Should we talk to her?”

“I don’t know. She might not even be serious about Harry,” Bubbles answered.

“But if she is…”

Another sigh. “If she is, then we’ll have to give her a schedule to stick to. And if we fall behind because of her…” Bubbles frowned while sipping her vanilla chai mocha. “We’d have to tell our patrons we’re going on hiatus or something.”

Robin pursed her lips. “We can’t really afford that. Well, I know _ you _can.”

“But it wouldn’t be fair to you,” Bubbles said. “I’m going to talk to Kim.”

She had to wait a few hours for her roommate to come back from the dead, although Kim groaned like a zombie when she awoke. “Ugh… what time is it?”

“One,” Robin answered.

“Oh… Shit, I missed creative writing.”

“And media study,” Bubbles added.

“Shit.” A self-satisfied smile turned her lips. “Last night was totally worth it.”

“Did you and Harry hook up?” Bubbles questioned.

“Hell yeah. What’d you think we were doing at his car for most of the night?”

Robin grimaced. “Kim, we sat in that backseat!”

“Good thing we did it in the passenger seat, then.” She yawned and stretched, grabbing her shower caddy. “Harry’s grown up in more ways than one if you know what I mean.”

Her friends groaned, laughing a little. Bubbles stopped Kim before she left. “Are you serious about him? Like, do you want to date him?”

Kim shrugged. “I dunno. He’s hot, obviously, and he’s developed a great sense of humor since high school. I wouldn’t mind being with a guy who makes me laugh.” Her eyes flicked between her friends. “If you’re worried about me putting him before our comic, don’t be. I wanna get paid the same as you two. Harry could be like…” She gestured flippantly. “Stress relief.”

“Okay. Just as long as you know what’s important,” Robin said.

“You two and our stunning work of art, of course.” Kim grinned and left to take her shower.

Butch came over for his modeling session the next day, and even he could tell little progress was being made thanks to Kim’s new habit of continually checking her phone for texts from Harry instead of focusing on her sketches. Robin would clear her throat every so often, prompting Kim to get working again. It was very stop-and-go, and made Butch anxious since no one was telling him what to do.

A month ago he wouldn’t have been concerned by their lack of progress since he only cared about getting paid, but they were friends now. Butch wanted their comic to continue being successful, be their cheerleader in the same vein as they cheered for him and Harry on the soccer field. There were more than a few instances where he noticed Bubbles on the sidelines with her sketchbook in hand. He finally mustered the courage to comment on it after a mid-November practice; apparently many artists didn’t like it when people creeped on their work. “Been drawing me?” Butch inquired as his teammates left the field.

Bubbles looked bashful. “A little. It’s tricky when you’re moving around constantly, but…” She opened her book to the most recent batch of doodles. As usual, her talent never failed to impress Butch. “Is it bad that I don’t even know what position you play?”

“Defense,” he provided, “fullback if you wanna be specific.”

“Fullback,” Bubbles repeated. “And Harry’s… offense?”

“He’s a forward,” Butch confirmed, “way faster than me. Doesn’t count for _ shit _when he can’t stop me from stealing the ball!” Harry, heading back to their dorm, gave him the finger. “Wanna grab a bite? After I’m not all sweaty ‘n gross, I mean.”

He didn’t smell bad to Bubbles, but his legs were spattered with mud since it had rained last night. She also wanted to ask him about something and this was a good opportunity for some privacy. “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

“Deli off campus. Bit of a walk but I’m craving a muffuletta.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes widened. “You’ve never had one? Oh, you _ gotta _try it.”

Bubbles agreed; a singular indulgence before Thanksgiving wouldn’t hurt. She waited in his and Harry’s room while Butch showered, adding details to some of her doodles. She had tried to capture the loose flowing fabric of his jersey where it contrasted the sharp angles of his body. She didn’t get to interact with him as much as Robin and Kim, and since Halloween she found herself wanting to know more about the boy beyond the croquis. Bubbles stuck her head out the door, checked both ends of the hall, and proceeded to do some snooping.

Harry seemed like a bit of a slob, honestly. His clothes and school supplies were strewn all over the place. Butch kept his bed made, his laundry folded, and his books shelved. Speaking of textbooks, what classes was he taking for fall quarter? Biology she already knew; he also had an English class, Psychology, Algebra-Trig, and an introduction to human anatomy. Five courses on top of soccer practice and matches was more than Bubbles had had on her freshman plate, but Butch didn’t seem fazed by the load.

She glanced into the hallway again and, spotting no sign of either occupant, checked the lockscreen on Butch’s phone. It appeared to be a family photo of him, his two brothers, and a diminutive man she assumed was their father. Like he’d said when they first met, Butch didn’t resemble his brothers in the least. One had a tall, wiry build and freckled skin, red hair, a straight nose, sharp eyes and chin. He looked very Irish. The other was paler, shorter, and cut an androgynous figure. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and shadows beneath his high, sharp cheekbones. He must’ve gotten the Russian genes. Bubbles estimated the man in the middle to be in his late 40’s at least. He was very short and frail-looking, with dark sunken eyes and a wrinkled brow. He had bronze skin and a full head of thick black hair just like Butch. All four men were smiling but it seemed a little forced, like they were tired of acting happy around each other.

She heard heavy footsteps approaching and set Butch’s phone down, planting her chin in one hand like she wasn’t up to anything suspicious. Harry entered first in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, freezing at the sight of Bubbles. “Oh, hi,” he said. “What’re you doing here?”

“Just waiting for Butch so we can get lunch,” she explained. “Don’t mind me.” Harry had to rifle through his clothes to find a clean shirt and she couldn’t help but think it’d be more efficient if he just put them away. Her face lit up when Butch strode in, also wearing gym shorts and a towel around his neck. The scent coming off him made her heady much to her embarrassment; he smelled like fresh pine and marula.

“Hey, you didn’t have to wait around for me,” Butch remarked, but Bubbles waved it off. He threw on a tank top and sleeveless hoodie, stepping from flip flops into sneakers. “Harry, put your clothes away while I’m out. Tired of seeing them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I said I would.” He gestured dismissively.

“Didn’t you learn organization skills at that military academy?”

Harry snickered. “Nope. I got demerits every week.”

Butch grabbed his wallet, rolling his eyes dramatically for Bubbles’ sake. “Do it, okay? Not gonna do it for you. Not your maid.” Harry flapped his arm for his roommate to lay off and just leave already. Outside the dorm, Butch sighed. “Our room looks so trashy thanks to him. Can’t believe you waited there for me.”

“It’s fine, I barely noticed. Your side is nice and clean, at least,” Bubbles assured.

“Yeah, but you have _ three _people in your room and it’s never messy,” he returned.

She gave him a look. “Just wait until the end of the quarter when all of our art finals are due. It’s like a tornado dumped paper and pencils all over the place.” Butch laughed at the mental image and Bubbles felt her heart speed up a few beats. He had such a deep, sincere chuckle. “So where’s the deli with these muffle letters?”

“Moo-foo-let-ah,” Butch articulated. “It’s a sandwich. It’s delicious.” Bubbles was intrigued. “The deli’s about six blocks away. There’s also a gelato shop nearby.”

“Ooh, gelato. Never had that.”

“No way!” he exclaimed. “Gelato’s the _ best! _ Way better than ice cream!”

“If you say so.” She smiled and walked a little closer to him. His hand was level with hers; she could reach over and grab it if she wanted. But she held onto her bag strap instead, questioning herself for liking the way Butch smelled and wanting to hold his hand and going out to eat with him in the first place because she didn’t like eating. Ever since Mitch Mitchelson began mercilessly teasing her about being chubby, she only ate just enough to prevent herself from fainting. Her sisters were so beautiful with their runway-worthy figures. Bubbles got stuck with a slow metabolism and an hourglass figure that made her hips look wider than a Cadillac by comparison.

Butch held the door for her like a gentleman and Bubbles’ titter alerted the man at the deli counter. His eyes practically sparkled as his lips separated into a wide smile. “È stato bello rivederti, Bulletto!”

“Sup, Giovanni,” Butch replied.

“Come stai?”

He shrugged. “Abbastanza bene.” Bubbles stared at him. Was that Italian?

The man raised an eyebrow of censure. “Oh, tirati su, sei con una bella ragazza.” His grin returned. “Così… è la tua fidanzata?”

“Mia _ fidanzata?_” Butch vigorously waved his hands. “No, no! Mia amica! _ Amica! _ God…” He glanced at Bubbles, cheeks burning red. “Ho delle amiche donne, sai!”

Giovanni laughed and rested his arms on the glass case. “What are you having, Bulletto? And for your ‘lady friend’?”

Butch rolled his eyes at the insinuation. “Two muffulettas, per favore. Extra salad on mine.”

“Salad? Huh?” Bubbles asked.

“Olive salad, not lettuce,” he clarified. “Always forget how to say it. Giar… giardin…”

“Giardiniera,” Giovanni provided.

“That.” Butch led the way to a small bistro table and plunked down in one chair, still blushing. He mussed his hair while pointedly not looking at Bubbles.

“So…” she spoke after an awkward minute, “were you going to tell me you’re, like, fluent in Italian or was I just supposed to find out after going to a random deli with you?”

He cracked a smile. “Not fluent, but I learned a lot from hanging around places like this back home.”

Giovanni piped up again. “Bella, se fai un panino, Bulletto sarà tuo!” Butch twisted around with a glare but the man just gave a hearty laugh.

“What’d he say?” Bubbles wondered.

“Something sexist.” He continued scowling at the man as he grabbed their muffulettas off the counter. “Oh, you want chips or something? A drink? Soda?” He paid for a cherry soda for himself and iced tea for Bubbles along with the meager sandwich bill.

“Bene, prenditi cura della tua donna,” Giovanni uttered.

“Keep that up and I’ll stop coming here,” Butch shot back. He was being such a troll! Bubbles, having taken an experimental bite of her muffuletta, returned it to the plate and fanned her mouth. Butch’s expression fell to worry. “Oh god, you okay? Che cossa hai fatto, Giovanni?!”

She caught his accusatory tone and motioned for him to sit back down, swallowing. “No, Butch, I’m fine! Really! It’s just… this sandwich is really good!”

“Oh.” He relaxed. “Great, glad you like it.” Giovanni made a smug noise.

“Mhm!” she confirmed through another bite. “What’s on it?”

“This one’s a little different than what I get back home. It’s got ham, capocollo, soppressata, provolone, mozzarella, the giardiniera, and aioli.”

“Aioli?” Bubbles questioned.

“Fancy mayo, basically.” Butch finished off his meal in six large bites and reclined in his chair. “Could go for another one, but _ someone _ruined my appetite.”

“Bulletto, prego.” The boy found Giovanni sheepishly profferring a takeaway bag. “Eat more, stay strong.”

“Grazie.” Butch’s eyes remained fixed on Bubbles as he sipped his soda. Watching her enjoy food for once filled him with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

“What, is there something on my face?” She dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. Why else would he be staring?

“No, you’re good.” He turned away but his gaze slid back to her when she finished. “Still wanna try gelato?”

“Yeah!” Bubbles hopped to her feet and left a tip under her plate.

“Ciao, bella!” Giovanni called as they left.

“Ciao!” she replied in kind, walking with a spring in her step as they headed down the sidewalk once more. “That was _ so _good, Butch. Thanks for showing me that place.”

“Welcome.”

“I can’t believe you speak Italian! It sounds so cool!” Bubbles gushed. Maybe it was just the fact that he took on a slight accent when talking to Giovanni, sounding suave. “Could you teach me some? ‘Bella’ is ‘beautiful’, right? And ‘grazie’ is ‘thank you’?” Butch faced her in alarm, wondering if she’d understood more of their embarrassing exchanges than he assumed. “Italian seems pretty similar to Spanish,” she mused.

“Yeah… You speak Spanish?” A nervous lump formed in his throat.

“Mhm. But I have no idea what ‘ragazza’ is. Pretty-something?”

Might as well bite the bullet. “Giovanni called you a pretty girl, then he asked if you were my fiancée.”

Bubbles sputtered a laugh. “What?! Why would he think that?”

“‘Cause I go there a lot, just not with anyone else.” A profound silence unfurled between them. Butch started talking a mile a minute to fill it. “When I first went there I heard Giovanni speaking Italian on the phone, so I spoke to him using it, and he was, like, thrilled. Told me his entire life story while I sat there eating a muffuletta. He immigrated to New York and tried making a living in Hell’s Kitchen but it was too expensive, so he moved to Cali. Met a gorgeous woman and got married young, like twenty. I’m turning twenty-one in December so now he does this thing where he hassles me about finding a girl and getting hitched so I can be like him. It’s stupid.”

“That’s… kind of cute, actually.” Bubbles peered up at him. “You’re older than me? But you’re a freshman.”

Butch mussed his hair some more. He was going to get a bald spot at this rate. “Didn’t come here right after graduating high school. Had to take care of some stuff first.”

“Your brothers?” she guessed. The dealer and the addict.

He shook his head. “Our dad. He’s… sick. He’s not even old yet, but… he got really sick all of a sudden.”

“With… what?” Should she even be asking? Was it too personal?

“Frontotemporal dementia, or sudden onset dementia.” They had stopped walking so Bubbles could regard him slack-jawed. “So, yeah… Had to work for a couple years after high school ‘cause our dad no longer could. He used to teach mechanical engineering at Columbia, and me ‘n my brothers had full-ride scholarships there. He’s got savings but Boomer started burning through it thanks to his lifestyle. We had to put Dad in a home ‘cause there’s no treatment or cure for dementia, and he’s only fifty so he’ll be there for a while unless he dies of something else first. Brick’s running drugs to support himself and Boomer, but he’s gonna get busted if he doesn’t quit. That’s why I was looking for a job, so I can send them money instead and they don’t gotta do illegal shit.” Before Bubbles could think twice about it, she threw her arms around Butch and hugged him so tightly he gasped, but her embrace only lasted a few seconds. “What was that for?” he asked, arching a brow.

“You deserve a hug,” she answered. Butch let himself be objectified by Bubbles and her friends so he could support his family. It was enough to make her eyes water but she willed herself not to full-on cry. “Umm, there’s something I wanted to ask you about…”

“Okay, shoot.”

“But now I feel like it’s a really insensitive question, or just a dumb one.”

He smiled. “No such thing as dumb questions. Shoot.” Bubbles raised her head. His countenance dimmed when he saw that she had teared up.

“Do you…” She sniffled, cleared her throat, and blinked rapidly to dry her eyes. “Are you going home for Thanksgiving?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said. He hadn’t celebrated anything since his father’s diagnosis. Holidays didn’t feel the same when the man who had instilled such traditions in Butch was changing into someone he didn’t know. His brothers had changed, too, and they hadn’t parted on the best terms. First Butch laid into Brick about joining a gang. Being a mule was great money, sure, but his arrogance was going to make him complacent and get him arrested, and then Boomer wouldn’t have anyone taking care of him. Boomer argued that he didn’t need to be babysat any more; he was eighteen, an adult, and could make his own decisions. Except it was obvious to his brothers that he was using ecstasy to numb himself to the pain of being forgotten by their father. They both called Butch selfish for wanting to go to college on the other side of the country when he had a scholarship to Columbia, literally right down the road from their townhouse in Upper West Side. But there was too much pressure there, his father’s reputation too grand to uphold.

Bubbles scuffed her shoe on the pavement. “So, since you’re staying here, do you want to have Thanksgiving dinner with me and my dad?”

“I…” He started to say “don’t think so”, but then he recalled that Harry, Kim, Robin, and the majority of the student population at Oakview would be leaving campus for that extended weekend. Bubbles didn’t want him to be all by his lonesome which was very thoughtful and generous of her, inviting him to her home. “What about your sisters?”

Her eyes traveled in a small arc. “Blossom joined an exchange program and is over in England now, and Buttercup’s deep in the Yukon. They’re doing their own things.” Accomplishing more than her.

Butch ducked his chin. “Okay, I’ll go.” He didn’t want her to feel lonely, either.

During the two weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, Kim and Harry developed a sudden affliction in which they couldn’t go more than a day without fucking like rabbits. Sock-covered doorknobs kept greeting Butch when he got done with his anatomy class, which ended quite late in the day, or when he came back from the gym. In those cases he still met up with Bubbles and Robin in their room where they took turns sketching, coloring, and laying out the comic pages. If the horny couple was attempting to break Kim’s bed, Bubbles and Robin brought their laptops and tablets to Butch’s room. It was a smaller area with less space for the artists to maneuver around their model, but slow progress was better than making none at all. Kim still did her part on her own time, but not actively working with her disrupted the creative flow.

“God, I’m gonna miss her!” Harry whined while packing his gym bag with clothes for a weekend at home, leaving its usual contents on the floor.

Butch cut his eyes at the pile. “Could you at least put those in your basket? Don’t need them stinking up the place while you’re gone.” Harry obliged. “It’s only five days. Think you’ll live.”

“Why don’t _ you _go have the wildest, craziest sex with a smoking hot chick every day for half a month and try telling yourself that you’ll live. My glutes have gotten tighter, I swear.”

“TMI,” Butch said.

He leered. “Wanna see what she did to me last night?”

“Not really.” His roommate still lifted his shirt to show off a collection of bright red nail tracks on his lower back. “Ouch.”

“Man, you need to get laid.” Butch didn’t feel like arguing that the amount of sex he did or did not have was directly proportionate to his masculinity.

Harry bid him goodbye until Monday. Through the open window Butch overheard all kinds of chatter about food, family, friends, and everything else not related to school. It elicited some nostalgia. Boasting that he was practically a man already because his dad taught him to carve a turkey. Bragging to girls that he knew how to make the entire traditional spread because girls liked guys who could cook. The dumb debate that arose between his brothers every single year about which pie was the “right” one to eat on Thanksgiving, pumpkin or pecan. They always had both.

After spending a whole day playing games on his phone, doing homework, and getting in a core workout at the gym that left him sore for the first time in a while, Butch received a text from Bubbles. _ ‘We’re coming to get you tomorrow at noon! Be ready!’ _

_ ‘Do I need to bring anything?’ _

_ ‘Just your big appetite!’ _ He wondered how much food three teenage girls consumed on Thanksgiving compared to three teenage boys. Since it would just be Butch, Bubbles, and her father, he should probably show some restraint and not seem like a glutton compared to them. _ ‘Btw, when you meet my dad, make sure to call him Professor or Professor U. Or else he’ll get cranky and say “I didn’t spend 8 years earning my PhD just to be called Mister”.’ _

Butch smiled. _ ‘Thanks for the heads up.’ _

The hallways and showers were eerily vacant when he set about making himself presentable the next morning. His wardrobe mostly consisted of workout attire and athleisure, but he did own a couple nice pairs of jeans and some shirts that covered his arms. No tie, though, and it was too hot and humid for sweaters of any kind. Butch sighed at his reflection; his rinsed jeans and black button-down would have to suffice. Too late to go buy anything else.

Bubbles directed her father into the parking lot at Butch’s dorm, springing upright in the passenger seat when she spotted him sitting on the steps outside the main doors. “That’s him! Stop here!” She got out and flounced up to Butch in her pastel blue dress. “Omigod, I’ve never seen you wear jeans before! You look great!”

Butch was momentarily at a loss for words. Bubbles sometimes wore casual dresses beneath her jackets but this one was… fancy. Sleeveless to show off her freckled arms, fitted at the waist to show off her curves, lacy details on the chest that kept drawing his focus to the shadow of her cleavage. Combined with her shimmery shoes, natural makeup, and bouncy blonde curls, she had transformed into a princess. “Uh, thanks,” he managed before too long. “You look beautiful.”

“Oh, psh. Come meet my dad!” She pulled him by his arm around the car to where her father stood. “Dad, this is Butch!”

Butch was only slightly self-conscious of the fact that he stood a whole head taller than the man, giving his open palm a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Professor U. Hope I’m not infringing on the festivities at all.”

“Oh, nonsense,” the Professor returned. “The more the merrier, I always say. I’ve heard a lot about you from Sophia.”

For a split second Butch forgot that was Bubbles’ first name. He laughed nervously. “Good things, I hope.”

“As if I could say anything bad about you!” Bubbles beamed. “We should get going. The turkey’s in the oven but we still have to make everything else!” Butch claimed the seat behind her. “You got enough leg room?” she asked. He nodded, feeling his anxiety spike as Professor Utonium drove onto the highway. It was one thing to go skipping off to Citiesville with a group of friends and another thing entirely to spend the whole day with a cute girl at her personal home.

The first thing Bubbles did was give Butch a tour of the house, saving her room for last. The fact that it had a mostly pink and white color scheme further convinced Butch that she was a princess. Back in the kitchen, the Utoniums put him to work peeling and boiling potatoes as Bubbles made a pie crust from scratch and the Professor took a break to enjoy some wine. “Do you like wine, Butch?” he inquired.

“Maybe? Only tried it a few times.” His father had regularly consumed red wine during the holidays.

The Professor poured some into a tasting glass. “Try this.”

Butch glanced at Bubbles in a silent query as to whether or not it was some kind of test. She gave him an encouraging look, so he drank the wine. It was light, sweet, and rather acidic. “It’s… good?”

“Well you didn’t make a face, so would you like a glass? Here, try it with the fondue first.” Bubbles abandoned her rolling pin to dip a roasted button mushroom into the cheese pot. Butch followed her example and his tastebuds sang. “Verdict?” the Professor asked.

“Maybe I can get behind this wine thing,” Butch said, and his hosts smiled.

Once there was no more food prep, the three of them retired to the living room. Butch wandered in a circle checking out all the photos on the shelves. There were a lot, and by the time he’d made a complete loop he noticed there were fewer framing Bubbles than her two sisters. The one he presumed to be Buttercup had participated in many sports and outdoor activities, grinning while holding up her medals and trophies. The more demure one, Blossom, was shown winning academic decathlons, chess competitions, and receiving honors. Bubbles was mainly featured with volunteer groups. She had done highway cleanup, planted a community garden, entertained senior citizens, and worked at an animal shelter. Based on the pictures alone it was easy to tell that the sisters had completely different personalities.

Butch, Bubbles, and the Professor finally sat down for dinner at five o’clock. They had lemon-rosemary turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberries with orange zest, cheesy green bean casserole, fruit salad, and a loaf of fresh wheat bread. Butch tried to eat at the same pace as his hosts but constantly conversing with them threw him off. Bubbles finished her plate early and began tidying the kitchen. “Is that all you’re having, sweetie?” the Professor asked of her.

“I’m stuffed!” She made a point to groan and rub her stomach. “Besides, I need to save room for dessert!” Bubbles poured herself some apple cider and sat back down at the table until the oven timer went off, then the scent of apple pie wafted throughout the kitchen. After the Professor had seconds, Butch helped himself to another serving of everything and polished off his plate faster than the first, motivated by the desire to fill his stomach with that pie. He remembered his manners and helped with the dishes.

“Butch, you’re taking some leftovers back to school,” the Professor said while filling tupperware with sizeable portions. “I won’t take no for an answer. There’s no way I can finish all this off by myself, especially now that I’m supposed to be watching my cholesterol. You know, old person issues.”

It was hard for Butch to tell if the Professor was older than his own father. The man had salt-and-pepper hair but fewer wrinkles and moved more spryly. Compared to Bubbles’ round, soft, cherubic facial features, his were very angular; the one thing they shared was a straight, narrow nose. He had a slim build and charcoal grey eyes, and seemed comfortable in a dress shirt and tie. Apparently Professor Utonium taught biochemistry at Oakview until just this year, when he dove into an independent research project.

“Butch, you’ll never guess what I got to go with the pie!” Bubbles opened the freezer and presented a tub of vanilla bean gelato. “It was so good when we went to that little corner shop, I just had to get some for dessert today!”

“Very impressive that you speak Italian, by the way,” the Professor commented. “I encouraged my girls to learn another language in elementary school, but Sophia was the only one who kept at it. You’ll find more Spanish-speakers around Townsville than Italian, I’m afraid, but they’re both Romance languages so I bet you’ll understand a lot if you listen closely.” That’s what Butch had been worried about after they left the deli, but Bubbles never mentioned anything other than finding it funny how Giovanni assumed she was his fiancée. Hopefully she didn’t share that bit with her father.

Bubbles surprised Butch again by withdrawing a cake pan from the fridge. “What’s that?” he wondered, hovering over her shoulder as she pulled off the lid. He recognized a cheesecake when he saw one and started salivating. “You seriously made this, too?”

“Yeah, it’s a spiced maple cheesecake. Want some?” The slice she gave him was more like a quarter of the entire thing, but Butch ate it nonetheless. The maple glaze and walnuts topping the smooth, luscious filling made him moan when he took a bite. Bubbles tittered and hid her blush behind another dessert plate. “Is it that good?”

“Heck yeah,” Butch said. He would’ve answered _ fuck yes _ if her dad weren’t around. The apple pie was just as delicious, and he shamelessly devoured a whole quarter of it as well. The Professor received a phone call from Buttercup then, and after a brief exchange with Bubbles she and Butch headed up to her room where he flopped onto the foot of her bed. “Why’d you let me eat so much?”

“I don’t recall force-feeding you or anything,” she countered.

“Don’t recall you telling me what a damn fine chef you are.”

Bubbles giggled and laid against her pillows. “You’re a good cook, too! Your potatoes came out so fluffy with half the amount of milk and butter my dad usually uses.”

“The secret is to mash them into oblivion.” Butch drove a fist into his palm. “Squish ‘em till there’s no lumps left.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next year.” Her expression softened. “Since you’ll be back at school before us, you should prepare yourself for the next phase of our comic.” Butch turned toward her, questions swimming in his deep green eyes. They really were beautiful. He was a gorgeous man. “The, umm… the nude scenes are coming up next.”

“Oh.” He faced the ceiling. “Isn’t that what I signed up for?”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, you can stop,” Bubbles said. “You can call it quits and we won’t hold it against you. Honestly, Kim would probably want to use Harry in your place. But that’d be weird for me and Robin, being around the naked guy she does stuff with.” Bubbles wrinkled her nose at the thought.

Butch half-smiled. “But you’re fine seeing _ me _naked? Even though we’re friends?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve already… kind of… imagined it?” He quirked an eyebrow. “I mean, Farber’s figure drawing class usually features nude models so I’ve seen all the… bits. It’s not that exciting, honestly. But since you’re modeling for a character I helped create, I sort of projected your bits onto him.”

Well, shit. He hoped he measured up to her expectations. “Why’re Marina ‘n Ciro getting down ‘n dirty, anyway?” Those were the main characters of the current arc. Butch had been dutifully reading the comic in his spare time and finished catching up over the break.

Bubbles sat upright to enter synopsis mode. “Well, you know Marina’s been spiraling into a dark place since she reunited with Alice and Sasha. They’re a couple and she feels like they don’t need her, they’d be stronger without her, she’s only holding them back. Why does Marina have to fight Zekis when _ anyone _ could take her place?” Butch nodded and she continued. “Ciro is from a future where Marina gave up the fight and disaster befell the world, so he came back in time to convince her that she inherited the Forerunner artifact for a very important reason that hasn’t been revealed yet. Because of this, everyone in the alt-future reveres Marina and puts her on a pedestal.” Bubbles held up an informative finger. “But, as you’ve read, Ciro got to know Marina and fell in love with her as a person, realizing she has flaws and faults like everybody else. And she fell in love with him, too. Ciro never gave up on her even when she hit rock bottom and almost gave up on herself, nearly abandoning her powers. That kiss at the end of the last arc was like her wake-up call that people believe in her and are depending on her to protect them, and she was being kinda dumb by concocting a negative image of herself that nobody else sees. So _ that’s _why Marina and Ciro are finally getting together, to express all these emotions.”

Butch grinned. “Makes perfect sense. How long’s the sex scene gonna be?”

“We’re still working that out. Kim wants to do gratuitous fanservice with _ details _ and different positions every other page. Robin wants to make it short and sweet, and use dark shadows so you can’t see the bits.” He snickered at her continued use of the word. “I just want it to be… authentic, I guess, like you can feel _ why _Marina and Ciro trust each other enough to be so vulnerable.” Bubbles waved her hand around. “But some people think missionary is boring and vanilla or whatever, so maybe Marina can be on top most of the time.”

“That’d be hot.”

She smacked his chest. “It’s supposed to be _ meaningful! _ Not just ‘wham bam thank you ma’am’.”

A loud laugh escaped Butch’s mouth before he covered it, chuckling lowly. “Oh god, never thought I’d hear you say something like that. Ooh, it hurts.”

Bubbles instantly scooted to his side. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Killed my abs at the gym yesterday. Still feeling the burn,” he explained.

“Oh…” She placed a palm on his stomach and rubbed it in a small circle, able to feel his tense muscles through his shirt. “Do you want Icy Hot? I think we have some.” Butch didn’t answer, going slack beneath the nominal weight of her hand. As soon as she touched him he sank into the cloud-soft mattress, the aches running out of his core. He needed a bed like this, or just for Bubbles to massage him.

“Sophia?” the Professor called from downstairs. Butch’s eyes popped open and Bubbles withdrew her hand as if he were a hot coal. “Sorry that took so long, Blossom had a lot to share. Are you two ready to head out?”

“Y-yes!” she answered, scrambling off the bed. Why did she feel so guilty? She and Butch were just _ talking_, hardly something the Professor could chastise them for. The door was wide open, they were fully clothed, and they weren’t in any sort of position that should make her so jumpy. Bubbles looked at Butch over her shoulder and he appeared straight-faced. He hadn’t interpreted her touch as anything other than a sympathetic, platonic pat. Not like she wanted to caress his abs to make them feel better. That’s what Icy Hot was for.

The Professor did most of the talking during the drive back to campus. Butch clung to his container of leftovers like a lifeline. It was completely illogical, but he felt like Professor U could tell he now harbored a desire for Bubbles to touch his bare skin. Butch would just lay back and relax like he had on her bed and she’d slide those dainty hands under his shirt, soothing his aches and pains. He put the thought out of mind for the few seconds it took to walk to the dorm’s main entrance with Bubbles, fishing his key from his pocket. “Thanks for inviting me to your place,” Butch said, holding up the tupperware. “And for this. Gonna be gone tomorrow.”

She smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome. It was nice having you. My dad enjoyed your company, too.”

“Tell him I said thanks, and it was nice meeting him.”

“I will.” Butch didn’t open the door yet. Did he expect her to say something else? “Um, I hope you have a decent night… oh! You can text me if you get bored or whatever.”

He ducked his chin. “Will do. You two drive safe.”

“We will.” Bubbles turned around in a jerky motion. “Goodnight, Butch.”

“Night.” He watched her return to the car. Bubbles gave him a wave before she got in and another one as the Professor drove off, Butch lifting his arm in farewell. It fell to his side once he could no longer see the vehicle, and he finally went inside. He stuck the leftovers in his mini fridge and collapsed into bed, such a far cry from the comfort provided by the one Bubbles slept on. If only he could’ve stayed with her a little longer, savored the feeling of her delicate fingers instead of taking the moment for granted. Where else might they have wandered? She could’ve touched him anywhere and he wouldn’t have stopped her because… 

Because he liked having her hands on him. Butch _ really _wanted Bubbles to put her hands on him again.

“Shit,” he said.


End file.
